To be Saved
by Running Rampant
Summary: Grimmjow can see them, the demons lurking in the world, so he hides in a church on holy ground where they can't find him. But when the demon Ulquiorra comes asking for something Grimm doesn't understand, will he be able, or willing to save him? Grimmulqui
1. If I am Needed

**Chapter 1**

The flowers blew gently in the breeze as the young priest set yet another bouquet on the next gravestone and closing his eyes solemnly. He did not particularly enjoy watching over the long dead people in the church cemetery, but he felt it was respectable and honourable. They had, after all, been like him.

_Daniel Connery, _he read off the faded grey slab sticking from the ground awkwardly, not unlike much of the surrounding areas. _1928-1944._ He had only been sixteen. _Sixteen._ He hadn't deserved this. No one did. Not the boy, not the other surrounding grave-dwellers, and not him. But life was not so kind.

"Rest in peace, Daniel Connery," his deep baritone rumbled tiredly. He had justifiable reason to be tired though. He had been up at six, and then he'd started.

No, he didn't like honouring his dead companions as it only depressed him, but they deserved to be remembered by someone. Someone like them. Like him.

He looked at his watch. _Already past 2, _he realised with surprise. He bowed his head to his long-passed cohort.

"You'll understand if I finish after I eat, won't you?" he asked the headstone, imagining a person who could hear him, could understand him and everything he had to go through. "I mean, I know you can't eat, but us livin' ones up here with all the issues that you ditched out on still have to survive. You got the easy way out. I have to stay here and slowly rot to death," he said flatly, glaring angrily at the grave. "But chances are I'll end up like you pretty soon anyways. We don't last too long, do we," he murmured softly. He turned to walk away but spared one last glance back at the grave. "I bet you wished you hadn't had it, either. But I guess I'll never know."

His name was Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. He was a strong man, built with incredible physical capabilities, such as the strength of an ox with the muscles to show for it and the agility of a jungle cat. His sky blue hair fell in a perfect mess around his chiselled face and currently covered the eyes he hated so much.

_And that's where all my problems begin, _he thought bitterly. Now, that's not to say his eyes weren't one of his best features, as they truly were. His eyes were a beautiful oceanic, nearly aqua blue that could shoot straight through a soul and bring any man or woman to their knees. _Now if only that's all they could do. _Clearly, living alone was beginning to get to him, making him more temperamental and bitter as of late.

Grimmjow opened the door to his living quarters on the church grounds. It was a humble abode, the exterior a simple, classic wood house, looking quite like a cabin. Grimmjow believed it had it's own personality, such a rustic, classical taste. It suited him, or so he had decided and was hard pressed to change his mind once he had decided on anything. The interior was furnished with all assortments of modern day needs like a television with comfortable furniture and a state of the art kitchen. He did not, by any stretch of the imagination, live in the dark ages as one would expect of a priest. Then again, he was not like most priests, if he could really be called a priest at all. It was more like a default job or a side-job to the one he actually had. _Not like it was my choice, anyways._

He rooted around in the fridge until he found enough ideal items to make a half-way decent sandwich. As he began to slice the cheese, the boy's name rang in his head like a never-ending mantra. _Daniel Connery, Daniel Connery, Daniel Connery._ He grabbed the meat next. _Only sixteen._ Maybe he needed some lettuce. _I've already outlived him._

Grimmjow slammed his hands on the counter and grimaced at the turn his thoughts always wanted to take. This was why he hated attending the graves so much. He thought to much. It led to compassion for the dead, and knowing that he wasn't far behind.

He roughly grabbed the sandwich and sat down at the small wooden square table, big enough for only two, maybe three if you squished. He took the first bite of the sandwich and routinely cleared his mind by doing the most menial task he could possible think of using his mind for. His to-do list. _Finish with the graves, mow the grass, start on the shingles on the church._ And that would most likely take up his day. He sighed dejectedly. _Maybe I should run into town for food as well._ His fridge was looking rather sparse.

"Where's my sandwich?" he murmured aloud to himself, startled momentarily before he brushed the crumbs away from his mouth. He really shouldn't zone out like that. But, it hardly mattered. He had work to do, had to get back to the graves. To Daniel.

Grimmjow walked back out of the house, sighing as the spring breeze assaulted his to-light jacket. Winter had just passed, but its remnants still remained. Late march still saw snow on the ground and grass frozen every now and again. Then again, it had been a hard winter and he really was hardly surprised to see winter clinging on with its last bit of unrelenting strength.

When he exited the house, however, he was frozen solid at the door, unable to hide his surprise. God was cruel, apparently. This was his home. This could not happen. Not here, not now. Please no.

_God is cruel._ He thought dejectedly, managing to gather his wits at long last. _So very, very cruel._

"Hello there," he said, raising his voice slightly so the _person_, or whatever you deigned to call it, standing on the opposite side of the picket fence could hear him. It was unneeded. He could have whispered and the creature would have easily heard him, but appearances were necessary when you didn't know what you were dealing with. "I don't get many visitors out in these parts. What brings ya?" Grimmjow had always been good at hiding his true intentions and feelings behind masks of coldness, aloofness or peaceful oblivion. But he was not oblivious, not like every other normal, unseeing, lucky person in the world. _I see you._

The man himself was not entirely impressive. To any onlooker, he was a man, perhaps a boy of seventeen or eighteen, he assumed. His body was small, much smaller than Grimmjow's, in fact; he probably reached up to his shoulder. At best. Black hair fell on his shoulders straight, with no apparent style or care done to it. He was dressed normally, in a fur-lined brown jacket and black jeans with heavy looking casual black boots underneath. Two lines ran down from his eyes, green and very noticeable, which Grimmjow thought was odd. Most like him didn't want to draw attention to themselves.

It was the eyes, though, that made him stare. They were green as emerald, larger than most and you would think it would be the centerpiece of his face, as though he would dazzle you with them. But they were so very cold and empty of infliction and just so _lifeless_ that it took Grimmjow a few seconds to recuperate from them.

Any normal person should be able to tell that there was something _wrong _with this person, that he had some terrible flaw that could not be overlooked. But Grimmjow could see it, he didn't have to wonder or guess.

His accursed eyes raked over the thing standing before him. _I see you for what you are._

Before Grimmjow stood a particularly lanky creature, absurdly skinny and almost as tall as him, no clothing on him but for the hair covering the better part of his lower half. His feet were claws really, naturally black and sharp. His skin was a horrible, dead white, looking as though Grimmjow could grab him and he would simply crumble. Instead of hands he had long black claws that could most likely rip through him without a moment's hesitation. His hair, too, was longer, reaching down to his back. A hole gaped in his abdomen, perfectly cut and round. He could see a tree on the other side of the road through it. The lines on his face were not lines anymore but huge markings, covering most of under his eyes. Horns protruded from his skull, long and sharp and oh so deadly, and the enormous, black bat wings that jutted out from his back, probably twice his body length, only added to his sinister appearance. But this did not bother Grimmjow too much. He'd seen many of this kind of creature in his life, they all looked different but all had something of a hellish appearance.

His eyes were the same in illusion as in reality. Empty. Flat. Dead.

To anyone who hadn't lived with the sight and upon finding out about all of this, they would most likely not be surprised that it had such blank eyes. But Grimmjow knew better. Normally, creatures like this had some emotion in their eyes, such as bloodlust or anger or sadistic happiness. He had never seen one so cold.

_What,_ thought Grimmjow,_ in the name of all holy hell is a demon doing here?_ Demons roamed the earth, seeking destruction and death for their own amusements, depending upon their inflictions at the time. They killed without feeling, delighted in their own brands of torture and were never caught. Not ever. Unless someone like Grimmjow came to the rescue. Someone that could see.

But they, the seers, as it were, were few and far between. Grimmjow knew of one in China, some background town he couldn't pronounce and didn't care to, and one hiding out in the desert somewhere in the Middle East. He wasn't too sure exactly where as she'd done a damn good job of hiding herself. After a certain point of realising they were overwhelmed by demons, they all just eventually hid where no vile hell creature could ever find them.

Enter Grimmjow, living peacefully in a church a few miles outside the small, small town of Hueco Mundo. After searching tirelessly for a place to hide a few years back, he had come across old writings of a place that had been fortified on holy ground by those with the sight like him. Extra protections had also been put up, different incantations and shields of sorts that kept demons at bay. The church, Las Noches, was his haven. It's size counted for it immensely because demons stuck to the main centers, with all the more people to torture. If a demon stepped foot on the grounds, it was stripped of all power and burned mercilessly. No demon would ever think of coming to such a tiny, no-fun town with a church that could potentially kill them.

And yet, here he stood, staring at what he believed to be a very powerful, most likely very old demon that did not look to be leaving anytime soon.

The demon blinked its eyes owlishly before replying, "Nothing in particular."

Grimmjow looked at him flatly. "Really," he said disbelievingly. "Because a three mile walk seems a bit extravagant to just come and stare at a church."

The demon said nothing, opting to continue to stare. It seemed relaxed enough, staring idly into space. Grimmjow wondered if this was as close to content as it could get.

"Fine," Grimmjow huffed. "Stand there if you want to but I have work to do. So unless you're here to help, buzz off. I don't like bein' watched." And with that, Grimmjow turned his back on the blank-looking bat demon and went back to the graves. He had no weapons with him, didn't believe he would need them today, and besides, the demon couldn't do a damn thing to him anyways. He was protected fully by Las Noches, so fuck that stupid hell spawn. He had better things to do.

Grimmjow heard a slight shuffle behind him, the gravel moving beneath the demon's feet. It wasn't moving, he suspected it was contemplating, but contemplating what, he couldn't imagine. And perhaps it was best if he didn't. He did not wish to share thoughts with such a creature.

"If I am needed," came the docile tone from the other side of the fence. Grimmjow lifted his head from staring at the grave and looked at it again. Such a strange thing for a demon to say. They were hardly needed anywhere. Yet, this one seemed sincere, as though he wished to stay, in so many words. But _why?_ The only thing this demon could garner from staying there was a severe burn. There had to be a reason, something underlying in the demon's mind that had it asking to stay.

"Do you want to be needed for this?" he asked. In essence, Grimmjow was giving him a way out. It could leave now, and never look back. There was no need for it to come onto the sacred ground.

"I do not want anything," it said, not blinking. Not once. It unnerved Grimmjow slightly. "But there is nothing else for me."

_That_ threw Grimmjow. A demon saying there was nothing for it? There were people, and therefore there was a means of torture and, for a demon, fun. This was its reasoning, then. It had been stripped of purpose, or it had run from that purpose. The demon was an anomaly. It frightened and intrigued him. There was something different about this one.

He walked up to the fence and stared hard into the others eyes.

_It is lost._ Grimmjow thought. It was the only look besides death in its eyes.

"What's yer name?" he asked, not looking away, not moving. Their faces were a foot apart at most.

"Ulquiorra Shiffler," it-he stated. And Grimmjow believed him. There was no hint of a lie in his eyes. It was an honest demon, baring itself and asking for judgement from Grimmjow. Clearly this _Ulquiorra_ did not know what a good choice he'd made in asking him for judgement, as he was the only one who could truly see him.

"I'm Grimmjow. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques," he extended his hand to him. Ulquiorra took it immediately and merely held on, as though holding onto something had solidified his existence, and he wished to retain that small sense of existence while he could. After a few seconds, they broke apart, but a new feeling had instilled itself in Grimmjow.

_There's more to him than I can understand, than there has been for any other demon I've encountered._

"Well, come on in then. I've gotta get some new shingles on that roof and I could use some help."


	2. God Damned Fucking Demon

**Author's Note:** Hi, I'm Running Rampant, new to writing on this site. I hope you liked the story so far and I'll do my best to keep updating quickly. Thanks for the reviews and please keep reviewing! I love to hear your thoughts. So, without further ado, the secong installment!

**Chapter 2**

Grimmjow watched with almost, one could say, anticipation. Ulquiorra was about to step on sacred ground, and that spelled doom for any demon, or at least impossible pain. He didn't believe that the demon would do it. _He must know,_ Grimmjow thought. _He's powerful enough to tell, I can sense that already._ If the demon crossed the threshold, if he came through the fence, it would not be because he didn't know about the protections. He knew.

Ulquiorra grabbed the fence, and though to any human eye it looked to be nothing but a grasp on the entrance to the grounds, Grimmjow saw his true hand sizzle miserably. Steam hissed from his palm.

_Surely he must be in pain._ But as Grimmjow watched, not a flicker of pain crossed his face, nothing disturbed his dead, lost eyes. He may really just have been opening the gate, but Grimmjow could _see._

Ulquiorra stepped in, and his body steamed. Burn marks appeared all over his skin, blistering him in a way that was suited for a creature from hell like him. And Grimmjow watched. He watched him calmly walk towards him, his feet burning more than any other part of him for actually touching the holy ground. Watched him move at a steady pace as though nothing was wrong, as if his true self was his human one, like he couldn't feel it. Still Grimmjow watched. Watched as he moved until he was beside Grimmjow, all of him clearly burning and boiling and blistering in seething, agonizing pain, and he looked for all the world as though it was merely a stroll. And Grimmjow no longer watched. He looked. Tried to see underneath the underneath. Was he so lost that this was his only salvation? A strong compassion overtook Grimmjow, and he, for just a second, believed that Ulquiorra could be human, that there was a soul looking for redemption hidden beneath his pale, pale skin and mournful eyes. And Grimmjow saw him, more than he ever had.

He shook the thought from his head. What was he thinking? This thing was a monster to the very core! He had no heart, proved by the hole where it should be. This Ulquiorra Shiffler was nothing but a cold, mean, evil, unholy denizen of hell whose kind must be swiped from the earth lest humanity perish!

_I really do sound like a priest._ Grimmjow thought dryly.

"You said you wanted to put shingles on the roof. Was that not your intention?" Ulquiorra stated, making his previous dry thoughts sound like Grimmjow was speaking from an ocean. _I've never met one like you._

He then realised he'd been blatantly staring at Ulquiorra for a good minute and a half.

"Uh, ya. Follow me," Grimmjow said awkwardly, turning and waving Ulquiorra to follow. "How long are you planning to stay?" he asked conversationally, on the surface. If Ulquiorra had come here looking for a place to alleviate his lost soul, then he knew it would not be for a mere few hours. He wondered if the bat demon could hear the underlying tone in his voice, asking how many weeks, months, even years he wanted to stay.

"Until I am no longer needed," was the stoic reply.

_I should start calling these._ Grimmjow thought, turning his head slightly to look at the demon again. He was walking to the right, and a little behind Grimmjow. _I bet I get him word for word next time._

Grimmjow chose not to answer, he felt it was wisest. What do you even say to that? 'Get the hell off my property, demon'? No, that don't work to well. For all he knew, Ulquiorra had friends nearby. And as strongly as he believed in the defenses of the church, he hated to think of the damage and suffering many demons could bring to one small town. Hell, they'd probably find some way around his defences.

_Lovely, so I suppose I'll just take in any weird ass demon that shows up at my gate. Safe, definitely. They won't kill me in my sleep for the hell of it or anything. _

He really should stop inner monologueing. He was going to lose his mind, and now, with a demon trailing him, was most definitely the wrong time to do that.

He stopped in front of the old church, staring up at the world-weary roof. _Well, at least he's good for something._

"This is it. Pretty big job, so I'd appreciate your help." Appreciate, what a stupid word. A horrible word when saying it to a demon. He ought to just leave. He'd fucking appreciate _that. _But whatever.

"Very well," came the ever-enthusiastic reply. Grimmjow rolled his eyes.

**XXX**

Grimmjow positioned the nail gun and pulled the trigger, feeling the satisfying thunk of a nail going where it was supposed to. He hadn't thought it would be so hot today, but surprise surprise, hot as hell.

_How ironic. _He thought, looking over at Ulquiorra. _Maybe I should just ask him if it's actually hot as hell._

He wiped the sweat off his forehead, his hair damp with the stuff. He had long since had to forego a shirt, choosing instead to work topless, though he doubted it was any better. It had been cold that morning! Freezing, really. And now the sun decided to grace them with its presence. If the sun were a guy, he'd strangle it.

Honestly, Grimmjow had no issue showing off his body. He was a good looking guy, not to be too cocky or anything. Actually, ya know what? He could be cocky! Because he was god-damn sexy!

_Heat's getting to me, _he decided and shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts.

He looked over to see Ulquiorra working diligently. Sweat poured off his human illusion, much like him, but his true demonic form remained flawless. Not a bead of sweat fell from him. His corded muscles worked effortlessly with him, doing his bidding as he saw fit. He burned still. His eyes were focussed, as though all that existed was his task.

_Just like then, when he shook my hand._ Grimmjow watched for a few more seconds. _Like all that's keeping him here is that._ He couldn't break his stare. This demon was just so… so different. He was throwing Grimmjow for a loop, one that questioned his whole mentality on demons. But there was one question that needed to be answered before he could even begin to think of this thing as anything but the evil monster he knew it to be.

_Why is he here?_ Such a simple question, and yet…

"Your staring is unnerving."

Grimmjow blinked. "Huh?" he blurted unintelligently.

"Your staring is unnerving." Not once did he look up from his task.

_Doesn't look unnerved._ Grimmjow thought angrily, sharply turning. He was not embarrassed that a demon caught him staring. He was _not._ _God-damned fucking demon._

"I wasn't staring." Grimmjow snapped sharply. "Don't jump to conclusions,"

"Your idle looking is unnerving." Grimmjow almost opted to knock himself out on the roof. How many hits would it take? 3, maybe 4?

_Not only do I take in a demon, I take in one who does nothing but fuck with me!_ Grimmjow fumed for a few minutes before returning to work.

_Just a God-damned fucking demon._ Reshingleing his roof.

"That's enough for today. It's too hot to do any more," he said, more for his own benefit. Demons didn't get hot. Or cold. Or anything really. They stayed neutral and happy as long as there was mass blood shed on their hands. _And I took one in. I must be out of my mind._

Perhaps he should just kick Ulquiorra out. Grimmjow could easily finish the job the next day without his help, and he only said he wanted to stay until he wasn't needed-_not like I care what he thinks anyways-_ so why not kick him to the curb now? So simple. So fast. So, so much easier than actually having to deal with him.

Grimmjow turned to Ulquiorra, bound and determined to throw him out.

And then he actually looked at the demon.

Ulquiorra's eyes looked up at him with something akin to hope. _Hope._ In his dead eyes. He was asking for a chance, someone to try to help him. Someone to solidify his existence. Grimmjow could feel it in the air around the two of them. _Help me, save me_ it whispered. Grimmjow had raised his hand, so ready to throw him away, and now it shook. He felt unsteady, on shaky ground. This was territory he'd never been in, and it was changing and convulsing and ready to swallow him whole.

_But I don't understand._ Grimmjow lowered his hand. _I don't understand what he truly wants._

_Why are you here?_

"I don't have much for supper, didn't get into town today. But I'm sure we can find something for ya." Now that was a far cry from what he'd intended to say. It was those fucking _eyes._ They did something to him. _A demon trick, maybe? _Definitely a possibility. Some demons were known to have abilities that could play with a mind. Perhaps it was subtle suggestions, triggered by looking into his eyes. It had to be. What other explanation was there?

Grimmjow wrenched his body forward, determined not to fall into his trap. _But… Demon abilities don't work on holy ground._ So what, then?

He climbed down the ladder and jumped off the third step, landing gracefully as ever. Normally, he would just jump off the roof. His innate feline-like grace had never failed him and he doubted it ever would. However, with a demon aloft, it was probably best not to let on that he had any fighting, or other, enhanced abilities.

Ulquiorra walk down every step and landed on the ground with the innate grace of _his_ kind. Was he not trying to hide it at all?

Grimmjow led the way, not looking at him, too afraid to get lost in his eyes and lost in his inability to understand. He could practically hear the sizzling of Ulquiorra's skin and feel the heat coming off his burning flesh. Why did he put himself through these things?

As he was about to enter his rustic abode, he realised that there was even more protection in the house. Ulquiorra would definitely be feeling this one. He glanced behind him to see Ulquiorra watching him patiently, most likely wondering why he had stopped short of the door. But he didn't ask. Didn't question. Didn't judge. Just waited patiently as though stopping in front of his own door was an everyday occurrence. As though he deserved hesitation.

But he did deserve hesitation! He was a demon for Christ's sake (no pun intended). Something built for pain and death and evil. He shouldn't even let him in the house.

Grimmjow decided that if this kept up, he'd most likely develop a split personality.

"It's not much, but it gets me by," Grimmjow said, leading Ulquiorra into the house. He watched from the corner of his eye as, as soon as Ulquiorra crossed the threshold, his burning increased, leaving his skin raw and with a strange, brittle texture. Like ash.

Ulquiorra didn't flinch. Grimmjow hadn't expected him to.

What he hadn't expected but did happen, however, was the sudden urge to push him out. Not because he was a demon, some satanic spawn that had most likely killed and tortured more people than Grimmjow had ever met. Not because he'd finally come to my senses about letting one of those fucking satanic spawns stay with him. No. Those would have been normal. Those he'd have understood. But, no. No, he wanted to push him out so that the burning would rescind. He must be in pain. Severe pain. Unimaginable, really. And he wanted to _help_ him.

_God-damned fucking demon._

He was losing his mind.

"Salmon good for you?" Grimmjow asked, heading to the fridge. _Or would you prefer my severed head?_

"I have no preferences." Grimmjow was really starting to hate him. More than before. This thing was not racking up any points for itself.

"How accommodating," Grimmjow said with a growl in his voice.

"Would you prefer I not be?" he asked, though Grimmjow doubted he cared.

"Maybe I have no preferences," he countered.

"Very well." Ugh! Grimmjow couldn't win!

"Don't you have a fucking personality?" he yelled in rage. His voice filled the kitchen, ringing ominously through the rafters. Ulquiorra stared at him curiously. Well, he'd never been good at controlling his temper and all day this thing just kept pushing and pushing and pushing…

"I like salmon," he stated. Oh for the love of all that was good in the world…

"That's not what I-You know what? Fuck it. You love salmon? Great! Fucking fantastic. Who needs to have any infliction when you have your fish ideals together?" he snapped, pulling salmon from the freezer and a frying pan out of one of the drawers.

"Do you not like salmon?" Ulquiorra asked, seeming more interested after his outburst. He quickly ducked when a plate was thrown at him. Ulquiorra looked confusedly at the broken pieces of the plate littered over the floor and back at Grimmjow, who was panting in rage, face red. "You have quite good aim," he noted, realising that if he hadn't ducked, his head would be in a sizable amount of pain right then.

"Just set the damn table!" Grimmjow hollered unabashedly.

**XXX**

"What do you mean he's gone?" came the hissing, enraged voice from the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Exactly that. He is gone, no longer here, absent-"

"Shut the fuck up, woman!" he howled, slamming his fist on the table.

"Nnoirta, relax. He couldn't have gotten far."

Nnoitra looked to his right, the man leaning back in his chair, boots propped up on the table. His brown hair waved down to his shoulders and grey eyes watching him tiredly. He was the only one there without any identifiable demon features. But he was, nonetheless, a wolf demon.

"The fuck are you talkin' bout Stark? This is _Ulquiorra_! He could be in Zimbabwe for all we know by now!"

"Is that where you want to start looking?" Stark asked, sparing him one condescending glance before closing his eyes again.

Nnoitra growled in an animalistic way. "Shut the fuck up Stark."

"Really, must you be so crass?" asked the formerly addressed female. She sat with her arms crossed, blonde hair falling into her face, though she was long used to it by now. A large fin protruded from her back and one came from each leg. A shark demon.

"You ain't helpin' nothin' either, bitch!" Nnoitra bellowed.

"Yelling at Hallibel won't get us anywhere. Look we'll have to look for him in the last places he'd go, as that's where he'd be. Unless, of course, he figured out we'd think of that and then is hiding somewhere else-"

"Then what do you suggest, Szayel? Search the whole damn globe?" And then there was Szayel. Now, no one really knew what he was, what with his strange wings, clearly unfit for flying. They all assumed he'd once been some sort of bird but had experimented on himself to the point his demonic identity had been twisted beyond recognition.

"Baby, you're just stressed. Just take a minute, ok?" came a trilling voice from behind him.

"Neliel, where have you been?" he asked harshly.

"I just went for a walk. No harm in it," she shrugged, flipping her green hair off her shoulders, and becoming frustrated when it just fell back. Really, the ram horns on her head could give her such bad hair days. Where her legs should have been were hoofs, and she stomped one in growing agitation towards Nnoitra. He always had to pick a fight.

"There is when I call a meeting. Start doing what you're told, bitch!"

"Don't you give me that, Nnoitra. I am your mate and you will not speak to me that w-" _slap._

Neliel held her cheek as she stared, shell-shocked, at Nnoitra. His eyes glowed in their ferocity. "Fuck off. You'll do as I damn well say."

She cringed away from him. Nnoitra grinned sadistically. "Learn your place."

He turned away from her and back to the table. "Search for any sign of him, any trace of his reiatsu. He's got a powerful demonic presence and it's familiar to us, we should be able to sense it easier than others. Start hunting tomorrow. Places where he could hide. Start searching." Nnoitra turned on his heel and walked out, leaving an exhausted three demons and one disgruntled one, crying softly, behind.


	3. Redemption and Peace

**Chapter 3**

Grimmjow stared up at the ceiling of his room, agitated. And tired. He looked at the clock. 2:23.

_Fuck my life._ He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. He thought all the hard work today would have tired him out to the point he could sleep, but apparently not. He had too much on his mind. He was just too confused to sleep. Maybe it was because there was a demon in the next room that was quite capable of decapitating him, even without its powers.

_Ulquiorra._ Why was he here? It was almost too much to think about. There was no point in trying to throw him out now, Grimmjow had tried that and one look in his eyes sent him right back to the same place; compassionate and trying to help. If only he knew how to help!

His father would laugh at him. Or yell at him. He was trying to help something his kind had been trying to exterminate for centuries. He couldn't go on so undecided. He had to choose one, help him or not. He'd drive himself mad if he didn't.

He recalled diner easily, having been only a few hours ago.

_Ulquiorra politely ate the salmon, as though he had to live up to some standard. _A demon with table manners. Weird._ Grimmjow watched him, trying to hide his amusement. All things considered, the situation could be taken as funny. After all, so few got the chance to dine with the enemy._

_"So where do you come from?" Grimmjow asked. Small talk had never been his favourite thing, but he wanted to know more about the demon who dared encroached on his territory. _

_"You likely have not heard of it," he said, not looking up from his meal. He never did look Grimmjow directly in the eye when they talked. Or at least when Grimmjow started the conversation._

_All in all though, not helpful. Besides, who'd never heard of hell?_

_"Alright. Who are your parents?" He hoped for a more creative answer._

_"I do not remember."_

_His face was turning red. He could just feel it._

_"So you're an orphan?"_

_"If that's what you wish to take from this, then so be it."_

I'm going to kill you,_ he though irately._

_"What's your favourite color?"_

_"I have no preferences._

Slowly. Really draw it out.

_"Did you leave your personality somewhere?"_

_"A personality is something one cannot lose."_

Think creative. Maybe drowned in holy water for starters.

_"Do you have any preferences?"_

_"I prefer not to be asked stupid questions."_

Soon. Like, maybe now.

_"And what to you is a stupid question?"_

_"Anything that comes out of your mouth."_

_His eye twitched. _I'll laugh.

Grimmjow threw the covers off of him. It was quite clear he wasn't getting to sleep that particular night. He put on some decent clothes and a slightly warmer jacket than the previous morning and walked outside, careful to not make a sound and disturb the resting demon. Who knew if they actually slept.

Grimmjow looked up at the quarter moon shining above him. Demons thrived in the darkness, and this moon did not provide as much light. Demons were harder to kill when the moon wasn't as there.

He trailed the grounds, with no particular destination in mind. Merely to stay on holy ground. He didn't totally trust that demon not to come out and stick his clawed hand and strangely skinny wrist through his abdomen.

_It'd be a pity. I've worked hard for these muscles._

"Could you not sleep?" Grimmjow nearly jumped out of his skin and he could feel the hairs on his neck stand on end. But he didn't flinch. Nothing really surprised him anymore, and if it did, he was a master at hiding it.

"Ulquiorra," he acknowledged, turning back to look at him. His pale skin was bleached further by the moon, if that was even possible. The moonlight was reflected in his eyes. He belonged in the night, looking more sinister than ever before. A lesser man would have run. But Grimmjow was not a lesser man. "I guess not. Too much on the mind."

"I see," he stated. Nothing else, just that little unhelpful sentence. Grimmjow really just wanted to punch him. Why didn't he? Maybe he was learning patience?

"What about you? I'm surprised you heard me," he said, looking at him suspiciously.

"I did not. It is strange, as normally I would have." Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at that. _Why not just scream to the wind that you're other? It'd be less obvious._

"But you don't have a reason for coming out here?" he asked.

"I was not aware I needed one," Ulquiorra stated, and Grimmjow could hear a slight condescending, superior tone to it. _Who needs patience anyways?_

"Fuck off then. I haven't had enough sleep to deal with your shit tonight." Grimmjow looked back up at the night sky, intending to ignore the current bane of his existence.

"Why do you deal with it when you don't have to?" Ulquiorra asked simply, and though he couldn't see as he wasn't looking directly at the demon, Grimmjow knew that Ulquiorra was staring at him in that blank, soul-seeing look he always had.

Now if that wasn't the question of the day. Grimmjow dropped his eyes and found them wandering over to the graveyard. How many seers lay there, rolling in their graves as a demon trotted over them? How many hated Grimmjow himself for allowing it?

"I do have to," Grimmjow answered, a weariness in his tone that hadn't been there before. "I just don't know why." He finally turned back to Ulquiorra, finding him the same as when his eyes averted. Standing stock-still in the pale, waning moonlight, his illusion dressed suitably in clothes meant for colder weather, hands in pockets and blank as ever. His true form held the same blankness, though his arms hung at his sides and there was a slight glare coming off his pointed horns. _I wonder if those are pure bone or some sort of ivory._ "I don't know how."

Ulquiorra's brow furrowed, and Grimmjow was surprised. It was the most emotion he'd seen in his face, besides his eyes. "I don't understand," he said, his normally apathetic voice belaying some hidden turmoil deep within. _He wants to understand,_ Grimmjow realised with a jolt.

"You will," Grimmjow said, and it was then that he realised he meant it. It rung true to his very soul. Ulquiorra would understand someday, he would make sure of it. Or he'd die trying.

_When did I become so passionate about this?_ He wondered. But even then, it was obvious to him. Because he wanted to believe that there was some good somewhere in the demon populace. That even though demons were monsters and evil and a trial for all of humanity, this demon could prove that there was light at the end of the tunnel, hope in the darkness of his world. That perhaps you weren't born to be what you are, that there was some semblance of choice to a life as well. _That even though I was born to be a seer, and devote my life to hunting and killing them, that maybe I have a choice, too._

"You cannot know that, trash," Ulquiorra dead-panned, his eyes holding no anger or heat, just blankness. As though it were an accepted fact. _Where the fuck had that come from?_ Why should he even help some stupid demon who thought he was trash?

"Fine then. Fuck off. I mean it this time. Fuck. The. Hell. Off!" Grimmjow turned to walk away. Little fucker could rot and die for all he cared. How could he get on his nerves that much? It usually took someone so much longer to push his buttons. He was a few meters away when he heard Ulquiorra again.

"Is there no chance for me then?" he asked softly, and Grimmjow just barely caught it.

"For what?" he spat, looking back again.

"Redemption." He said it as though it didn't really matter, as though nothing really mattered. Did anything matter to him?

His eyes were different though. Where there had been hope, there was now burning sorrow, burning to rival his seething skin. Grimmjow felt his resolve soften and break once again. He just couldn't leave anything in such a decrepit state.

"If you want it, there's a chance," Grimmjow said before stretching tiredly and heading back to the house.

He couldn't be sure, but as he was leaving, he could almost believe he heard a small 'thank you' from behind him.

But it was probably just his imagination.

**XXX**

Neliel flipped through the book tirelessly. There had to be something in here. _Where Demons Fear to Tread._ That was the name of the book. She figured that Ulquiorra would be in one of these places. The book had been written for seers, somewhere to hide and retire, but demons had gotten their hands on the book. It didn't do them much good as many of the places listed in the book demons couldn't go anyways. It was mostly sacred ground.

"Oh, this isn't getting me anywhere!" she complained, letting out a frustrated huff. "Stupid Ulquiorra. Why did he have to go? We're already weak after the loss of the others." Neliel recalled her fallen comrades. There had been ten of them at one time. Barragan, the skeleton demon. _Old man._ Zommari, the flower demon. _Still a weird attribute_. Aaeroniero, the fish demon. _Freaky split personality._ Yammy the gorilla demon. _Dumb as shit. _But they had been powerful, lorded over all demons.

"Demons feared us when we were all together. We were the strongest of them all! And now we've been reduced to this!" she screamed, throwing the book at the wall. "Squandering for lost members to keep some of our prestige! Stupid Ulquiorra! I hate him. I hate him!" Tears began to fall down her cheeks again. "I don't hate him," she sighed as she slumped to her knees on the floor. "Nnoitra…"

He had once been so kind to her, his six arms holding her lovingly and kindly. Had it all been an act? It had seemed so real. He had seemed to love her so very much…

"And now I'm mated to him." She wiped the tears away. "And I can't do anything about it." She shook her head, as though rejecting the thought. "I'm just not as strong as him."

"Why do you sit there, stewing in your own agony?" came an apathetic voice.

"Oh, Hallibel. I didn't know anyone was here." Neliel looked up to watch the only other female Espada walk calmly towards her.

"Hardly an answer," she said, looking down on Neliel. "Get up. There is no need to shame yourself further."

Neliel knew she was right. She pushed herself up to her feet, wiping any last traces of tears away. "I wish he was dead."

Hallibel knew she wasn't talking about Ulquiorra. "I know. But he is not. And you lack the capacity to kill him," she shrugged. "You aren't strong enough."

"But you are…" Neliel murmured, looking at her hopefully.

"I will not get in the middle of a mate issue. Nor will Stark. This is not our problem. Don't go running to those who are stronger because you can't solve this yourself."

Neliel had known that would be the answer, but she couldn't help but hold out a small bit of hope. "Perhaps Ulquiorra is the only smart one among us," she mused. "He got out. But I'm stuck here."

"The only chains that bind you are those you place on yourself," Hallibel said, walking over to where Neliel had thrown the book. "Getting mad will not unbind you. Find your own key to releasing yourself from this prison. It is a trial we will all face soon enough." She handed the book back to her green haired comrade. "However, that's not to say Ulquiorra's key won't fit your chains as well." With that, she walked off. Hallibel was never a woman of many words, this Neliel knew. When she did speak, she spoke wisdom and truth, and it was best to listen as she never gave useless information where it was not needed.

"Ulquiorra's key…" she hummed to herself, looking down at the book, open to the page where it had landed.

_Las Noches, huh._

**XXX**

Grimmjow threw the covers off of himself. Again. 6:23. Still way to early. But at least it wasn't 2:30 anymore. He threw on some dark jeans and a flannel shirt, determined to be lazy that day. It had been an emotionally taxing day previously. Lord knew he needed some time to get his head on straight.

He walked into the kitchen, Ulquiorra nowhere to be found. _I don't think he's even in the house._ Although, it was best not to underestimate him.

"Oi! Ulquiorra, I'm makin' breakfast and if ya don't come now, I ain't making ya any later." A human would have easily heard his hollering, but Ulquiorra being a demon, he may as well have been yelling in his ear. But there was no response. _Little shit is ignoring me._ Grimmjow huffed and stormed over to the guest room where Ulquiorra had stayed the night previous.

"Didn't you hear me, dipshit?" Grimmjow growled, throwing the door open. He blinked when he saw the empty room. Where'd he go?

Grimmjow scratched his head. Where would he go? It's not like he had anywhere to be. He stepped out of the house and started calling for Ulquiorra all over the grounds.

There weren't a lot of buildings on the grounds. The house, the shed, the church…

"Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow called, his voice echoing in the confines of the church.

"Grimmjow." Ulquiorra nodded his head in Grimmjow's direction.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked, looking at the demon. _There's a demon in my church. World must have done a fuckin' 180 yesterday._

"Even you cannot be so dense as to not guess." Ulquiorra stated flatly. _Oh for fuck's sake._

Ulquiorra was sitting, hands clasped in his lap, sitting in the last row of benches in the church. That in itself wasn't surprising. The closer he got the alter, the harder and more painfully he'd be burned. Nothing like natural protection. There were no protection spells on the church specifically. There didn't need to be. Churches kept out demons just fine on their own. Ulquiorra was burning right then more than ever before. Grimmjow tried to hide the pitiable look in his eyes. He didn't want to pity a demon, and they certainly didn't need his pity. _Ulquiorra especially, he seems pretty proud._

"Tch, whatever," Grimmjow hissed. He was about to leave, but again, he looked at him.

_I hate his eyes._ He looked serene today. In a church. _He's a demon, right? _He sat next to Ulquiorra instead.

"Praying for anything specific?" he asked, giving Ulquiorra a side glance.

"Peace," he said, closing his eyes and bowing his head once more. "To finally be at peace."

Grimmjow looked at him full on.

He'd always been a man to follow his instincts, and they screamed at him then. So he listened. Because they were right. Somehow, they were right.

He put one hand on top of Ulquiorra's, looking straight towards the alter at the front.

"You can stop running now," he said softly. "Be at peace here."

Ulquiorra looked at him with a mix of shock and, if he read that right, appreciation. Admiration, maybe. But only ever in his eyes. _It's all I need, though._ "Peace comes in all forms. In family, in happiness, in love and life, and in death," Grimmjow continued, his eyes staring straight into Ulquiorra's. "But peace will come to you, if you let go of your torment." Grimmjow stood up, closing his eyes and letting his own peace wash over him. "It will come in your darkest time, to those who seek it." He smiled down at Ulquiorra and offered his hand to him. "Peace is the beginning of redemption. Let me help you."

Ulquiorra looked, then, as if he were a child who had never been loved, and someone was offering him the love he'd unconsciously yearned for his whole life. He lifted a hand to Grimmjow, and it trembled. He grasped Grimmjow's forearm and pulled himself up.

"Let me help you, then, too," Ulquiorra said, a resolve in his voice Grimmjow had yet to hear. _He knows I suffer to._

They came together out of a need to end their suffering, a way to find their selves. Perhaps, this was both of their answers. Grimmjow still didn't know exactly what Ulquiorra wanted, and he suspected it was mutual, but there was that mutual desire to help, and to save.

"I'm makin' breakfast. Hope the bacon ain't burned yet. So come on already." Grimmjow started walking out, hearing Ulquiorra follow.

_Wouldn't it be nice…_ Grimmjow's eyes darted back once again, finding Ulquiorra's once more hopeful eyes on him. _…to be saved._

**XXX**

AN: Hey everyone! So there ya go! I don't know if the plot is really developing of if it's going to slow or something, so please let me know your oppinions, because everyone knows an author loves feedback. I hope this is enough. I always try to get just a bit of comedy in there, as the story is pretty serious. I think. I try. But anyways, remember, read and review because it definately motivates me!

-Running Rampant


	4. Kisuke and Yoruichi

**AN:** Hey hey! So I've come out with another chapter, and I'm warning you, there is some serious Nel angst is this chapter, so watch out for that. Anyways, thank you to all who have reviewed so far because it really makes me happy. And a big thank you to everyone who's been favoriting and story alerting and everything. It's a real treat to know you like my writing. And as always, keep reading and reviewing and I work even faster ;) So, I realised I haven't given a disclaimer yet. Haha, oops.

Disclaimer: I do not own bleach or it's characters and am making no profit from this story.

Now enjoy! I hope this chapter is good with everyone!

**Chapter 4**

"I hate this fucking roof!" Grimmjow raged at the top of his lungs. "Why the hell am I even doing this? It's not like I get paid any extra to do stupid fucking repairs!"

So, they were back reshingleing the church roof. It was nowhere near as hot as the previous day, and for that Grimmjow was grateful, though in his current angered state of mind he'd never admit it. He at least wasn't sweating buckets.

_Doesn't make the damn job any easier._ At least he had help.

Ulquiorra worked diligently, almost eagerly one might say. But perhaps that was going too far for the ever-stoic demon. He did not seem put off by Grimmjow's ranting, far to used to it at this point. It had only been one day and Ulquiorra was already becoming accustomed to Grimmjow and his raucous personality.

"If it did not matter to you, I doubt you would do it." As always, Grimmjow did not appreciate Ulquiorra's commentary.

"It's a chore! I don't gotta like it, I just gotta do it," he stated, the growl still evident in his voice.

"You are not too concerned with different chores that would draw others' ire," he pointed out, motioning with a flicker of his hand to the unmowed grass below. It was extremely thick and freakishly high by that point. Grimmjow noted that he could probably crawl in the grass and not be seen.

"Smart ass," Grimmjow muttered and went back to work. _Somehow, I think I've just been manipulated back to work,_ he thought, sneaking a peek back at Ulquiorra. Still working hard as ever, but with what Grimmjow could almost believe to be a slight quirk to his lips. _A smile?_ Nah. Ulquiorra didn't smile. He turned his eyes back to his job and snorted silently at the ridiculous thought. His eyes went back to the other. _Couldn't be…_ He shook his head and tried to focus on his work. _…could it?_ Grimmjow looked back one more time, just for good measure and _not_ because it made him feel lighter thinking that a demon could smile in an innocent sort of way and _not at all_ because he enjoyed thinking that he could make Ulquiorra smile and _most definitely not_ because he thought it was cute or anything. Course not. Ridiculous. _Still…_

When he looked back, he met Ulquiorra's eyes instead of his lips with his line of vision. His condescending look just screamed _busted._

"Perhaps you should pay less attention to me and more attention to your work, lest you really don't want that finger anymore," he said, giving him a 'you-are-such-an-idiot' look.

"Get offa my back! I ain't starin' at ya," Grimmjow snapped out, baring his teeth in an animalistic sort of way.

"Clearly," Ulquiorra said with none to small an amount of sarcasm in his voice. "Then perhaps you should remove that finger out from under the nail gun."

Grimmjow finally looked down to see that, lo and behold, Ulquiorra was right.

_God damned fucking demon._

He quickly removed his hand and scowled, turning around. No way was Ulquiorra seeing him blush. The asshole of a demon had enough to bug him about.

"Enough of this shit. Let's go into town. I've gotta get some food anyhow and I am sick of this fucking roof!" he yelled, kicking the nail gun as hard as he could and sending it flying towards the back of the church. He heard the all-to-familiar sound of something breaking into unidentifiable pieces on the ground, some never to be seen again.

"Was that really necessary?" Ulquiorra asked, seeming to be bored of Grimmjow's antics. This only served to make the enraged seer angrier.

"Yes it was fucking necessary! God damn thing's been a pain in my ass all day! Now get your shit and get off the fucking roof before I push you off and your neck breaks from the fall and I don't have to deal with you anymore!" Grimmjow's face was red with exertion and his breathing was laboured from a mix of his intense shouting and tendency not to breath between sentences when he was that pissed off.

"I didn't know you cared so much," Ulquiorra stated, walking past Grimmjow to the ladder.

"Huh? Hey! Don't get the wrong idea! I don't care," Grimmjow said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking determinedly away from Ulquiorra.

"A pointless endeavour it is, talking to you," Ulquiorra said as he approached the ladder first.

"Then don't bother! Shut your damn trap and keep your opinions to yourself," Grimmjow hissed at him, pushing his way past Ulquiorra and descending the ladder.

"I was under the impression you desired to know my opinions," Ulquiorra shrugged.

Grimmjow jumped to the ground with three rungs left-_because four may be too suspicious but then again I may be paranoid-_ and glared up. The sun was behind Ulquiorra's head so he winced slightly when trying to catch a glimpse to give his snarky comeback in the right direction. Ulquiorra was standing there, and he looked darker than before in comparison. A haunting presence with his wings eclipsing some of the precious light, and he didn't seem to belong in the sunny day. _Like he would crush the sun in his palm, take away everything Grimmjow knew, and leave him in utter blackness forever. Nothing left but the ashes of his old life._

_Mom…_

He could never forget what Ulquiorra was. He could never forget it again. Because then it would kill him.

_Why won't you wake up?_

Ulquiorra was a demon, a monster and he could not afford to forget that again.

_"She can't hear you anymore, Grimmjow." His father's strong hand was on his shoulder, Grimmjow on his knees, panting for breath, but it was like there was no air._

_"She can! She has to! Mom, please wake up! Please don't!" He gripped his hair, thrashing his head back and forth, back and forth. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. Not real, not real, not-_

_"She's gone, Grimmjow." His voice was so sure, so accepting of it. Why him? Why them? He was eight years old, his parents loved him, they lived happily. Things like this didn't happen, they just didn't. That's why it wasn't real. Not real, not real, not real… please…_

_"No! No, she can't be! Mom! MOM!"_

"Grimmjow?"

He snapped his head up, his eyes flying open. Ulquiorra stood before him, looking at him with something akin to concern. _But not concern, because they don't feel._

Grimmjow didn't answer. He just turned away from Ulquiorra and started walking.

_Real._

**XXX**

Nel fiddled with her white jacket, trying to hide her anxiousness. In actuality, the fiddling probably made it that much more obvious. But who cared! She was alone in her room right now! She could be anxious if she wanted to.

And really, why shouldn't she be? Nel had to make the biggest decision of her life.

_Can I leave?_ The question rung in her ears and it just wouldn't shut up. It had been hours, and one would think she would have made some progress coming up with a solution. But nope. Just fiddling with her jacket.

Her white jacket. Always white. It was the symbol of the Espada. They lived in a white manor house with white walls and white ceilings and white rugs and white curtains and white furniture and white clothes and white decorative fruit and it was all just so _white!_ The white was supposed to represent their superiority, their breaking of traditional from killing and torturing randomly. As demons were mostly represented by night and shadows and darkness, it was a contrast. They lorded over demons because they could kill ingeniously, work as a team and because they were the most powerful. They were the elite, the strong, the _white._

Nel was beginning to hate white. It was blank, it held no feeling, no personality. It looked as though it had sucked the life from other things, drawing previously lively, wonderful things into its trap and turning them that soul-sucking colour. If white was alive, it would be dead.

_Am I becoming white?_ she thought, stopping her fiddling and falling back on her bed, stretched out. It surprised her how much the notion bothered her. _Is Nnoitra making me white?_

_Nnoitra…_ She had to choke back tears. Last night had been a horrendous experience. Her mind travelled back of its own accord.

_"Whatcha doin' in here?" came the bored voice of her mate. _My jailor.

_"Just looking up places where Ulquiorra may have gone." She didn't mention any specifics. If she took Hallibel's advice, she'd be going to one of these places soon…_

_"Tch, pointless. He could be in any one of these thousands of places. Searching like this ain't gonna help nobody find him. You can be so stupid sometimes. Most times." He threw his head back and laughed out that horrendous, cackling laugh. He used to laugh so nicely… "Your stupidity really has lifted my spirits. I guess a thanks is in order." Neliel didn't miss that he didn't actually apologize. They both knew, but nothing was said._

_"I have to get back to it, then," she said, getting up to hunt for some other book. She wanted to get away, needed to be away from him._

_"Oh? Scared, Nelly?" he asked, his obscenely long tongue slipping out of his mouth and tracing his lips. Nel gave an involuntary shudder. _Oh no, please not here. _"Come now, surely you don't fear your own mate." He grabbed her chin harshly and brought her face up to look him dead in the eye. "Little Nelly, don't be afraid." His grin was manic, terrifying._

_"D-Don't. Nnoitra stop!" she screamed as she felt him bite her neck and begin to shed her clothes._

_"Hush, Nelly. It'll go a lot smoother if you just cooperate." He dug a hand into her side and Nel flinched from the pain. "Much smoother," he murmured again, tracing his now bloodied hand down her leg._

_"Nnoitra, no!"_

Nel shook herself from the thoughts. There was nothing she could do about it now. He was stronger than her, and her mate. _I thought he was different. I didn't think he was so evil._ But really, they were demons. They fed off pain and blood and death. _I still don't see Stark treating Hallibel that way,_ she thought bitterly.

And wasn't that reason enough to leave? She hated the way Nnoitra treated her. Hated how he took what he wanted from her and left her for scraps until the next time. Hated how she still loved him, despite it all.

_I'm turning white, _she thought despairingly, and suddenly, she just couldn't take it. Breathing heavily, she ripped the white material off her body. _Not white, anything but white._ She ripped all of it off and threw it to the bed, trying to displace that white. _It matched. _She howled out loud and started tearing up her bed sheets. _Where Nnoitra and her had been so many times, before and after she'd started turning white. _But it made no difference, because everything underneath the white was still white.

She didn't notice when she started screaming, and she didn't notice when the screams turned into peels of maniacal laughter or when it became something between the two. She didn't notice the tears running down her cheeks or when she gripped too hard and pulled out some of her hair.

She noticed when she cut her arm.

_It's red…_ Not white, but red. _More, I need more red. More red, less white. So more red._ She couldn't think straight anymore. Red wasn't white, red was far, far away from white. Red could save her from the white.

She dug her hands into the small wound in her arm, probably inflicted by the broken glass-_When did I break the mirror_?- and started tearing it open more and more. Because there was red in her. She coated her hands in her saving red and threw it against the wall, watching it splatter, giving life to the blank white. She got more and threw it on her bed, and her window, and her floor and ceiling and that god-damn stupid plastic decorative fruit and it was wonderful and beautiful and all she wanted because it wasn't _white._

She was laughing hysterically. She couldn't stop. Red, red, she needed more red! She dug back into her arm, not feeling the pain of it.

"I'll paint my room in red!" she cried at the top of her lungs between howls of insane laughter.

"Neliel, some of us are trying to-" Hallibel stopped immediately when her eyes caught up with her. _Dear God_. And demons did not say that very often.

She had come to find out what was just _so_ funny that it ruined a perfectly good moment between her and Stark, because she liked participating in sins of the flesh with him and being a demon she should like all sins anyways. This, though, was not funny. Not even close.

Blood was on everything. It was splattered on every surface, everywhere. And in the middle stood Nel, standing stock still, her back towards Hallibel. But that hardly mattered. She could see the blood running down the deranged woman's arms, legs, her back, her hair.

Nel slowly turned and if Hallibel hadn't seen her fair share of blood and gore, she would have gasped. Gashes ran the length of Neliel's arms, deep and thick and pouring blood. It ran in a tiny stream to the ground. It was streaked across her face and all over her naked body.

Neliel smiled weakly at Hallibel. "Red is such a nice colour, don't you think?" Neliel murmured, her eyes slightly dazed. _At least she has stopped,_ Hallibel thought.

Hallibel had no reason to ask why she had done this. It was obvious.

"I wondered if you could leave," Hallibel said, looking at her with pity. "I didn't know if you would be able to leave Nnoitra. Some mates can't handle that, after all. But perhaps you should go regardless." Hallibel walked up to Neliel and stroked her thumb under her green eye, effectively swiping off a stray drop of blood. "Because you're going to die anyways if you stay here."

**XXX**

Grimmjow looked at the sparse stock of nail guns lining the wall of the hardware store. There really wasn't much. _So maybe kicking my nail gun off the roof wasn't such a smart move. Sue me, _he thought irately. He grabbed the best looking one and inspected it with a trained eye. _Good enough. It'll get the job done._ He headed back up to the till and heard the shuffling behind him, very close.

"You know, Ulquiorra, you don't have to cling to me like you're gonna get lost. It's a store, not a maze," he said, looking at him amusedly.

After seeing the bat demon burning for the last full day, it was a bit odd to see him comfortably walking around, no burn mark present. _He sure heals fast._ It only meant he was that much more powerful.

"I do not wish to be here," he said, turning his head to the front of the store where a couple of people had just walked in. They didn't seem to pay too much attention to them as the populace had grown used to Grimmjow's obscene blue hair. It was a small enough town that everyone knew everyone. _At least it's got a decent hardware store._

"Really? I thought you'd be glad to be out of the church grounds for a while. Always lifts my spirits." Grimmjow set the tool down at the till and fished in his jeans' pockets for his wallet. "I hate staying there all the time." He claimed his wallet with a triumphant grin and paid the store-keep.

"Small things amuse you, I see," Ulquiorra pointed out, lifting an eyebrow at Grimmjow's apparent glee. Grimmjow frowned at Ulquiorra. He frowned, really. Because he did not ever, in his life, pout.

"Oh ho, Grimmy! This one's got you all figured out!" the over-exuberant voice trilled from the other side of the counter. Grimmjow really could never get over the man's eccentricities.

"Shut up, Urahara. You know I can never deal with yer shit for too long," Grimmjow huffed, impatiently waiting for his change.

Urahara Kisuke was an interesting man. Grimmjow would know. He wore the most ridiculous clothing, with clog sandals, a large green coat and a green and white striped bucket hat. His ever-present grin marred slightly by whatever candy he was sucking on only served to make him look like someone who'd escaped the loony bin. But there was more to him that Grimmjow knew. Something Urahara himself didn't know.

His wife was a seer.

Yoruichi Shihoin. A physically powerful, purple-haired yellow eyed woman with a love of adventure and some of the craziest fighting skills he'd ever seen, she had taken him in when his father had died at his young age of ten, his mother having died two years earlier, and raised him to be a strong seer, as his father before him. She taught him to fight, to lay low, when to strike and when to be patient and she gave him his demon-slaying sword, Pantera.

And she'd pissed off a very, very powerful demon. Killed his mate, if Grimmjow remembered correctly. So she'd taken off about five years prior and was hiding out in some desert in the Middle East.

Technically, she was still married to Kisuke and the two contacted each other every now and again through letters and the odd phone call a few times a year. The blonde man seemed perfectly content with still being married and dealing with all this, like it was expected.

_"For better or for worse isn't just a half-assed promise, Grimmjow. When I said it, I meant it. So if she still loves me, I'll wait for her and be there when she needs me._"

Urahara had told him that when he was still living with him. It had been one of the only times he'd seen the usually chipper man so serious. When Yoruichi left, she'd entrusted Grimmjow's safety to him, and he'd taken that seriously as well. Two years later, when Grimmjow was eighteen, he'd moved to the church that Yoruichi had told him about years before. And Kisuke followed right behind him, moving into a humble home in Las Noches and starting the hardware store he was in.

Grimmjow wasn't too sure what Urahara thought had happened to his dear wife, but he seemed to understand. Yoruichi was always good at convincing people.

Being as lost in his memories as he was, Grimmjow decided to reflect on how much he missed Yoruichi as well. He, too, got the letters and phone calls. They talked like she wasn't hiding and fleeing for her life, like she could be sitting on the couch beside him and nothing had changed.

_Why didn't you take me with you?_

"Well, at any rate Grimmjow, you should pop by some time. I have this steak and I can't justify eating that much food without someone else there to help me," he said in a cheerful voice.

It really had been a while since they'd just hung out together. Kisuke had been like a father to him for the last 11 years his actual father hadn't been there. _Though it's not exactly his fault he died._

"Sounds good, blondie," Grimmjow said with a grin.

"Good, good. See ya soon little boy blue!" he called with a grin, waving that stupid fan at them as they left. "And bring your little friend with you!"

Grimmjow turned away, because he couldn't help the grimace that graced his features. It was one thing to put himself in danger by sharing quarters with a demon, but he didn't want to do that to Kisuke as well.

They walked through the town, readying to make the three hour walk back to the church. It had been a nice enough day to walk and Grimmjow hated wasting gas. Ulquiorra had the grocery bag in one hand and Grimmjow carried the nail gun. _It was my fault, after all._

When they were about five minutes out of town, Ulquiorra's voice stopped him.

"Why have you become so melancholy?" he asked softly. Grimmjow turned to look at him. Was he?

"Dunno what youre talking 'bout," he murmured and started to walk again.

Ulquiorra grabbed his bicep with his free hand. It was a strong grip, and it unnerved Grimmjow to see the talons wrapped around him. _He could tear my arm off right now and I couldn't stop him._ "Don't lie," he said, something in his voice. Like pain. Like sympathy. _But, that's impossible._ Grimmjow turned back to him once more and saw the burning look in those eyes. _Isn't it?_

"I-" he stopped. Ulquiorra wouldn't care.

"Please, Grimmjow." It was said so softly and with so much emotion that Grimmjow almost couldn't believe his ears. He looked into Ulquiorra's eyes and couldn't stop himself.

"Urahara Kisuke has been like a father to me since my own died. And his wife was like a mother to me. But, she left a long time ago. Hiding somewhere. And I miss her. I wonder all the time why she wouldn't let me go with her." Grimmjow stared back into eyes that burned with the same need he'd seen earlier. The need to help, and to save. _To save me._

_And I'll save you too. Somehow. I promise. Or I will die trying._

Ulquiorra's hand slid down his arm to his hand. Grimmjow watched in a detached sort of way. He was no longer worried about Ulquiorra ripping it off, because it felt nice. Very nice, actually.

Ulquiorra lightly squeezed Grimmjow's hand. "Let me go with you."

Grimmjow wasn't even surprised. He was happy to hear it. "Then stay with me."

Neither was sure how long they stood there, holding onto each other's hands as though there was nothing else in the world.

Unspoken words rung in the air between them. Unspoken because they didn't need to be said. They both knew, instinctively, soul-deep.

_I need you._


	5. Stay with me

**Chapter 5**

Ulquiorra sat unworriedly in the ninth row of the church benches, mulling over the latest developments in his suddenly tumultuous life. Each was quite a bit different, but all most definitely required deep thought to process the various aspects.

He'd stopped steaming.

Now, that wasn't to say that he'd stopped burning, far from it. Red welts still appeared all over his once flawless body.

_Flawless,_ he thought, raising one black clawed hand into his direct line of sight. _Hardly._ A demon was a flaw in itself. A creature that had no purpose and no reason to exist. And Ulquiorra was tired of it. All the bloodshed and death and watching the light go out in his victim's eyes had all been for naught, because it was pointless. His whole life was pointless.

And he was evil. It had taken him centuries to come to that conclusion but now he knew for sure, he was evil. For only evil killed without feeling, without rhyme or reason or purpose, and he just couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Why kill, when it brings you no pleasure but more suffering? Why harm when it damages you as well?

But he was getting away from the topic.

He shouldn't have, by any means, stopped steaming. Especially where he was right now. There were eleven rows in the church (yes, he got it, but it was not all to amusing to him) and he could sit in the ninth row and feel no more of a burning sensation than he did on the grounds. This was a strange development, though not an unwelcome one.

Grimmjow had started acting quite disgruntled after returning from his adoptive father's house last night. Ulquiorra had not gone with him, though Grimmjow had offered to take him along. He understood that Grimmjow needed this time with the strange blonde man. _And quite a strange one at that._ Such eccentricities were out of place in the small town, and the world for that matter. He wondered vaguely what had caused the man to be so… immature, he supposed was the correct word.

He'd asked, of course, what had happened, but Grimmjow seemed determined to be as aloof as he could. And he wasn't very good at it. Not by Ulquiorra's standards, anyways.

"_Look, I just found out he's been keeping some stupid secrets from me, ok? Enough of that, so what do you want for supper?"_

An answer that revealed nothing at all. Ulquiorra sighed and looked at his hands, currently crossed daintily in his lap. He did not know why he was so…so… Ulquiorra couldn't place the feeling. He supposed it resemble upset, but he doubted it was as strong as the human definition. _When have I ever had to figure out such trivial things like emotions before now?_

Regardless, he was 'upset' that Grimmjow refused to share something with him that was clearly wreaking havoc on his conscious. Ulquiorra had watched him pace the house restlessly and had distinctly heard the sound of dishes flying when he went for a walk on the grounds and the repeated mantra of "fucking Kisuke!" over and over. Why did he not confide in Ulquiorra? Had they not grown to trust each other over the past while?

Though two weeks was hardly that much time, it seemed that so much had happened. The last month even more so. His inner reflections and realizations, his defection from the espada, and now his strange relationship with the ever-fiery Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. A relationship that he could hardly define and didn't care to at this point. He had too much else on his mind.

Ah, yes. That brought him back to one of the more disturbing problems. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but it certainly had him on edge, and that was saying something as it was _him_.

Grimmjow had a demon slaying sword on the mantle on the fireplace.

He'd made mention of it before, when he'd realised what he'd been staring at and why it had caused him such wariness.

"_Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said, looking intently at an old, but very well kept sword. "Where did you get this sword?"_

_Grimmjow walked over to stand right beside him and looked at the blade with him. "Yoruichi gave it to me," he said, not making eye contact but staring at the sword intently. "Some heirloom," he shrugged. Ulquiorra had the distinct impression that he wouldn't say much more, but he pressed regardless._

"_It is certainly a fine blade. I think I've seen one like this before," he said, inspecting it closer. A faint blue light came off of it; one Ulquiorra doubted Grimmjow could see. Only demons and the few living seers would be able to recognize such a detail. _Because, he couldn't be a seer._ Ulquiorra glanced at Grimmjow, whose eyes remained locked on the deadly sword. _He couldn't._ Ulquiorra looked back at it. _It's impossible.

"_She told me this crazy story once," Grimmjow said, a heaviness in his voice, as though his words carried great weight. As though there was more to what Ulquiorra was hearing. "She told me that this sword had been passed down in her family to those who could see things no one else could." Grimmjow wouldn't meet his eyes. He was still looking at the blade. Ulquiorra was surprised he had to control his breathing because something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. "She said she came from a line of men and women who killed monsters, evil, unholy monsters." Grimmjow looked at him then, and it was such a sharp stare that Ulquiorra had the strangest feeling to cower and was even more surprised that there was no hole through his head where Grimmjow was staring. If looks could kill, it didn't seem like such a childish analogy right then. "She said that it could kill them. That _I_ could kill them. And that I should." _

_Ulquiorra couldn't move. He was paralyzed by Grimmjow's stare. He felt vulnerable, and it frightened him. _

_Without breaking eye contact, Grimmjow took the sword in his hand and placed it at the back of Ulquiorra's neck. He moved his face so close to Ulquiorra's that the stray strands of hair always falling in Grimmjow's face fluttered across his forehead. His eyes were piercing, haunting, passionate like nothing he'd ever seen before._

"_But will I, I wonder," he murmured, and Ulquiorra felt the echo of his breath across his face. He wanted to breathe it in, to take something of Grimmjow into him and be a part of him. It overwhelmed him, and he was lost. Lost in the feeling of _feeling._ It made him dizzy, strangled his airways and turned his mind to a hazy wasteland. It was so much, and he could barely contain himself. _What do I want?_ It was the first time he didn't know. He wanted Grimmjow. But for what purpose, he did not know. _

"_Grimmjow," he whispered, barely aware that he had spoken. He leaned forward, only a bit, but there was so little space between them it seemed like he'd leaned forward miles. His forehead fell against Grimmjow's. _Grimmjow,_ he thought, savouring the way it echoed in his head. _Grimmjow… Grimmjow… Grimmjow…

"_Yes?" he murmured, blue eyes holding something different, but no less piercing, no less weight. He hadn't realised he'd been speaking out loud._

_He heard the blade clatter on the ground, but it made no true sound to him. There was nothing but Grimmjow, not in that moment. He stayed in an eternity and an instant, stranded somewhere between reality and everything he'd ever wanted. _Take me,_ he thought. _I'll come with you. I won't ever leave you.

_A precariously placed pan chose that moment to fall from the counter, effectively breaking the spell with a thunderous crash in their bubble. Grimmjow snapped his head over to the kitchen, then back to him._

"_Ulquiorra," he'd whispered. There was so much in his eyes right then, a whirlpool that was pulling Ulquiorra deeper and deeper. He wanted to fall in and drown in those eyes. Grimmjow could have said so many things, and Ulquiorra would have accepted them all without a second of hesitation. He could have said that up was down, black was white, Ulquiorra was forgiven, and he would have believed him. If Grimmjow asked, he'd take the blade and slice his own neck, he'd kill every enemy Grimmjow had ever encountered, he would lay down for him and give himself to Grimmjow fully and with every last dead, empty scrap of soul in him and would have done it gladly._

_But Grimmjow turned and walked away, leaving Ulquiorra standing there, alone. But he wasn't standing, he was falling. There was no ground because Grimmjow wasn't holding him up. There was no air because Grimmjow wasn't breathing into him. There was no life, because he could no longer feel the only thing that had ever proved he was _alive.

Come back,_ he thought, reaching out to Grimmjow with his thoughts. _I don't want to die again.

"_Pork chops good for supper?" Grimmjow called from the kitchen._

_Ulquiorra fell to his knees, unable to stand any longer. Grimmjow couldn't see him anyways._ He can never truly see me._ "That is fine," he replied, eyes staring at the fallen sword. He grabbed it in his hand and it burned like nothing before. His skin began to bubble and sizzle and steam worse than before and it hurt more than words could ever describe._

_But it was _Grimmjow's_, and therefore he would hold onto it. He could live if he held it._

"_What are you doing?" Grimmjow said, slightly panicked and staring at him in shock._

"_You dropped this," Ulquiorra replied, getting up and hesitantly placing it back onto the mantle._

I'm dying again,_ he thought detachedly. He turned to see Grimmjow waiting for him. _But maybe not._ Ulquiorra followed Grimmjow back to the kitchen and stayed close enough to breathe in his scent and lived for a while longer._

Ulquiorra clenched his hands in a rare sign of uncertainty. What had that all been about? The strange well of emotions that had more or less exploded within him and turned him into an aching, broken mess that couldn't forget his passionate eyes, his soft hair, his enchanting voice, his fire-like warmth, his-

He really did have to stop losing himself in thoughts of Grimmjow.

_Grimmjow…_ He was lost again. _Where am I?_

It made sense that he would be so… obsessed with him. Ulquiorra had not felt anything since his rebirth as a demon, and he could no longer remember the feeling of any emotion he had as a human. Clearly, he'd forgotten the intensity of it all.

Ulquiorra had thought the emptiness in him would eventually devour him, like he'd rot from the inside out. After all, nothing sustained him. He felt no sadistic pleasure in killing as many demons did, he did not feel the bloodlust or the rage he was expected to. There was no anger or pain of sadness or happiness, there was just a blank void like an empty hall that stretched on and on into forever.

Except that empty hall had hit a blunt, strong, very much _there _wall called Grimmjow.

_Grimmjow…_ What was he saying?

_Oh, right._

At any rate, his empty world had come crashing down in an instant and everything he'd forgotten poured out. It was the strangest sensation, and he didn't wish for it to end. Even then, sitting there in that church on that pleasant morning, his obsession still fast asleep in bed- _where I wish I could join him-_ he could feel the distant echo of the tidal wave of emotions that had crashed into him the previous night. It wasn't the same as actually feeling them, but the memory sufficed for the time being. Until he could see Grimmjow again.

_Grimmjow…_ His breathing was getting heavier. _Grimmjow…_ He was starting to sweat, not from the burning of the church. _Grimmjow… _He could picture him right now, laying in his bed, perhaps the covers had been kicked off, perhaps he slept nude. The Grimmjow in his mind looked at him with imploring eyes, begging him to come. _"Stay with me, forever."_

…

He'd just moaned. Good God. He had to get out of the church before his unholy thoughts became too explicit.

Now.

Ulquiorra bolted from the church and winced slightly as the harsh sunlight hit his eyes. He'd lived his life so long in the darkness, been more or less nocturnal, and now he lived like a human. A mortal. That which he was most definitely not.

_I've never wanted anything so much, _Ulquiorra thought, his eyes trailing over the grounds and landing on the house. _If only I could just be human._ Then perhaps Grimmjow would care for him.

Ulquiorra realised that all this obsession was quite unhealthy. However, he decided he must feel something towards Grimmjow if the blue eyed man could break his dam of emptiness.

_Grimmjow…_ Ulquiorra resigned himself then to never being able to have a normal train of thought again.

Ulquiorra found his mind wandering back to his imaginations' Grimmjow, lying in wait for him. Is that what he wanted? Lust, he supposed, was quite a powerful emotion in itself. Sinful, deadly, but an emotion nonetheless. Frankly, he should probably get used to the darker emotions first. Being a demon, they should be second nature to him. So he allowed his mind to wander back to a very naked Grimmjow and let it play out from there, not really knowing what to expect.

_Perhaps my human mind is doing this, _he reasoned. He had been, at one point long ago, human.

Was it only lust? He was surprised how much that notion depressed him. And it felt… incomplete. Lust was a simple emotion. You wanted to, for lack of a better phrase, fuck the other person stupid based on looks. Ulquiorra went back to his picture of Grimmjow, and when he did, his mind's Grimmjow wasn't pounding him senseless- _Why do I assume I will automatically be bottom_ he thought as his eye twitched slightly- quite the opposite. He was hovering over him, resting his forehead on Ulquiorra's, and whispering words that he couldn't hear. _What was he saying? _Ulquiorra tried to make it out, but to no avail.

_Maybe I need to actually hear them._ Ulquiorra found himself walking back to the house. _I need to see him._ He wanted to stay alive. Just for a bit.

When he entered the house, Grimmjow was nowhere to be found. He could hear deep breathing from his room and followed it with a sense of need that he'd only begun to understand.

Grimmjow lay tangled in the sheets, shirtless, flat on his back. His beautiful locks fell haphazardly all over his stunning, chiselled face and spilled onto his pillow in an imitation of a mess, _because he could never be a mess, not truly._ His lips were slightly parted and soft breaths escaped him. Ulquiorra watched as his chest rose and fell, rose and fell, so very alive. _Will he share that with me? _One of his hands lay across that so-very-alive chest and the other was positioned, palm up, close to his face.

He was so beautiful it almost hurt.

Ulquiorra was at his bedside now. He kneeled down and rested his chin on the comfortable mattress. He tentatively reached a hand to touch Grimmjow's, the one by his face. _One touch won't hurt,_ he reasoned.

But just as he was about to touch the object of his affections, _my obsessions,_ Grimmjow's eyes opened. They did not flicker and showed no signs of weariness. It was as though he had been awake the whole time. They were so steady, so strong, and they froze Ulquiorra. _His eyes are the most beautiful part of him, hypnotizing really._

"Ulquiorra," he murmured, staring intently at him. Ulquiorra couldn't move, didn't want to. He was so very close to being alive again.

_Say it again,_ he thought suddenly. _Tell me what I couldn't hear._

Grimmjow grasped Ulquiorra's hand, so fast even the great demon himself did not see it, and before he knew it, Ulquiorra was lying across Grimmjow's well sculpted chest.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra whispered, slowly arching his neck and bringing his lips closer to his. He was so close. _I want this. I need this._ Ulquiorra felt Grimmjow's hand brush though his hair.

"Stay with me," he whispered, so quietly that Ulquiorra wondered if he would have heard it if he'd had a normal, human hearing ability.

"Forever," he whispered in Grimmjow's ear.

And they were kissing, and it was everything Ulquiorra had never realised he'd needed. It was innocent, their lips touching and nothing more. But it was so much more. It was a promise of so much more. Ulquiorra felt Grimmjow's arms wind around him, and he placed his hands on Grimmjow's shoulders.

It was over to soon. Ulquiorra opened his eyes, which he hadn't been aware of closing, and stared into those sapphire pools, trying to convey every feeling in him to the one he wanted and needed. Grimmjow must have seen something he liked, because he smiled softly and kissed Ulquiorra's head sweetly.

"Stay here for now," he said, even softer. And Ulquiorra, known for his heartless, emotionless, empty self, smiled with all the feelings in his heart. Ulquiorra nuzzled his face into the crook of Grimmjow's neck, and he fit so perfectly he thought for a brief moment that it just had to be fate. And for hours, all morning and into the afternoon, they stayed just like that. And something happened that made Ulquiorra's whole world flip upside down all over again.

His heart started beating.

**XXX**

Neliel peered around another corner of the manor house she'd come to know as her home. But no longer. This place held no happy, warm memories for her, merely bitter betrayal and cruel actions. _But no longer!_

It was clear. She slunk expertly through the house. Once she was on open ground, none had a hope of catching her. She was too fast, faster than the rest by far. It had always been a strength of hers. She looked momentarily down at her legs, her ram legs ending in hoofs, and smiled. Though not the most aesthetically pleasing, they were, nonetheless, useful.

She passed by one of the lower demons that catered to the Espada, strutting superiorly in the manner most befitting of a member of the elite. The lesser demons were not her issue, they would not question her actions. Hallibel, too, would not stop her. It had been party her idea, anyways. Stark likely would not care, as he rarely did, and she suspected Hallibel may have mentioned it anyways. She would expect nothing less from a happily mated pair. _So unlike me._

If she ran into Szayel, she could most likely formulate some lie and expand from there. Szayel hardly cared for her at all, too focussed on his own ventures. Ventures which Neliel liked not to think about. She had heard far too many tortured screams emitted from his particular wing of the house to bring herself to investigate. She knew she'd regret it if she ever worked up the nerve.

Nnoitra was the problem. _Isn't he always._ He would question her extensively, and the bond between them would allow Nnoitra to detect any lie. If she even hinted at leaving for good, he'd intervene. She knew because she'd been given fair warning that morning. Damn mate bond was really frustrating sometimes.

_"Nelly, darling," Nnoitra in a conversational voice, but Neliel could hear the underlying menace. "I've been sensing some rather odd things from your end of our dear mate bond," he trilled, his grin never faltering. There was something in his voice that warned of a coming storm, and Neliel was in no way a novice at dealing with Nnoitra's subtle moods._

_"I'm sure," she said flatly, tracing her finger over the top of her coffee cup. Nnoitra sat on the opposite side of the small table, made for two, set up in her wing of the house. He'd deigned to join her for breakfast, consisting of some rather fresh human organs. Nnoitra had always liked the tendons, having once told her long ago that the toughness of them made them a sort of challenge, and it amused him that humans could pose any kind of challenge. _That should have been a warning right there of his need to dominate and lord over all he considered weaker._ But, alas, she had not seen it in time. _

_She sipped conservatively on the thick, reddish liquid in her glass, the liver on her plate remaining untouched. Demons truly didn't need to eat as much as the Espada did. They could survive quite easily on a few humans a year, or if need be, several animals. However, it was a symbol of the Espada, of their abysmal strength, that they could eat meals of human bodies, left over from treacherous acts, every day. It was just another marker of their superiority. _Such things seem trivial,_ Neliel thought idly. _It's not as though any doubt are power._ But it was just another thing that put them above all else. _

_"Is that all you can say, dearie?" he asked, his grin still present, but his eyes had narrowed further. "Because I think there's something you're not telling me."_

_Neliel looked at him with dull, tired eyes. She had, in fact, planned on escaping that night. She just couldn't bear it with him anymore. It hurt too much, physically, emotionally, mentally, it was far too much. _

_"There is," she said, sipping again from her cup. "But I doubt you want to hear it."_

_"Humour me," he said, his voice dropping another octave. _

_"Perhaps I am tired of all this demeaning treatment," she said, glaring at him in something of a stand-off._

_"That's what this is about?" he asked, resting and elbow on the table and holding up his head, leaning forward. One may think it was an intimate gesture, but Neliel knew it to be menacing._

_"Perhaps," she repeated, not wanting to lie, because he'd know then._

_"I see," he said, his eyes dropping from hers momentarily. As Neliel watched, she saw something in his eyes, something defeated and hopeless and in so much _despair_ that she wondered how she could have ever thought of leaving him. She saw Nnoitra, the true Nnoitra, once again._

_But as soon as she'd seen it, it was gone, and he was staring back at her, smile intact and eyes as deranged as they'd been for the past few months._

_"You wouldn't do anything drastic because of that, would you?" he asked, his head craning to the right. "Because that would be a very bad idea indeed," he said, his head almost vertical as he grinned at her. Neliel dared not move. She wondered if he'd kill her, right then and there. He looked ready too. Her hands shook gently in her lap, but she composed the rest of her body. "If you ever thought of, oh, I dunno, running let's say," he started, getting up and walking slowly over to her. Neliel did not move, not even her eyes followed him, just stared forward in determination. _He will not see my fear._ He got to her side and merely stood there, surveying her. He bent down, and it seemed to take longer than the walking. As he spoke, his lips brushed her ear in a mockery of affection, but it still sent a shiver down her spine, and she hated herself for not knowing if it was from fear and revulsion or desire. "I'd have to chain you to the bed and never, ever let you go." He stood back up and walked briskly to the door. He paused as he was about to walk out of the sitting room, as he'd done so many times before. He'd done it many times after eating with her, after speaking with her, after making love to her, maybe to utter one quick last goodbye, or bid a short farewell, or even whisper another "I love you," to her, but this was the first time he'd ever looked back at her and said, still facing the door, "But you would never dream of doing that," he turned just his head, and he was able to turn it back a bit more than a human could, enough to chill her to the bone. "Would you?" And he left._

"I would," she whispered, walking purposefully to the front door. _This is it, this is it, this is-_

"Neliel?" She froze. _No…_ She turned her head, just to glance back.

"Szayel."

**XXX**

Grimmjow blinked his eyes open, briefly wondering why his chest suddenly felt so heavy. Taking into consideration his position, on a closer inspection, he found the source of the problem.

Ulquiorra lay, curled and content, on top of him, his head resting snugly in the crook of Grimmjow's neck. Luckily, with the way his head was positioned, he had yet to be skewered by the sharp horns that spanned another head's height. His wings draped about him lazily, covering both of them in a blanket of black. His tail, which probably startled him the most next to the fact that he was sleeping with a demon, was wrapped three times around his left leg and had what he believed to be a pretty good grip on it. He wondered if he could even walk without falling over.

None of this, of course, he could relay back to Ulquiorra. What could he really say? Watch the horns? Your tail's a little tight around my leg?

No. Hell no. The last thing he needed was anyone else knowing he was a seer.

Note the "else" in that sentence. Yes, else. But then that begs the question of who "else" knows. Who?

Fuckin' Urahara Kisuke.

_Shoot me._

So, It all started three days ago when he decided to take Urahara up on his offer for steak because God _damn_ he loved steak. And he sorta missed the old man.

Sorta.

As in only somewhat, not really but kinda.

Definitely less now.

He'd thought it would be an innocent night, well, as innocent as it got with Kisuke. _Crazy old man has it in for me._ Anyways, he'd thought they'd just talk about the usual shit. How life was, how the store and church were doing, had we heard from Yoruichi recently, weather, and random shit that Kisuke would go off on like there was no tomorrow. Usually candy. Freak.

Little did he know how right that was.

_Urahara put the steaks on the table, smiling at his "son." _

_"Looks good, old man," Grimmjow said with a wide-spread grin. _

_"But of course!" Kisuke said, waving his fan in Grimmjow's face, just because he knew how much the kid _fucking hated_ it. "Now eat up!"_

_Grimmjow rolled his eyes but dug in happily._

_"So, where's your little friend from the other day?" Urahara asked conversationally. Grimmjow's eyes shot up instantly. Any mention of the demon had him on edge. It was nothing new, demons were a touchy subject when brought up, even indirectly or unknowingly._

_"He wanted to stay back at the church. Said he was tired or something," Grimmjow shrugged, hoping for a subject change._

_"It's strange, don't cha think? Ya never let anyone stay with ya before. Not even me!" He made sure to pout at this._

_Grimmjow rolled his eyes again. He was sure with the amount he did around this nut job they'd roll right out eventually. "I'm an adult, Kisuke. I can take care of myself."_

_"Hmmm, true Grimmy!" Grimmjow's eye twitched._

_"Shut up, Blondie," he growled._

_"Awww, that's not very nice. I'm only tryin' to help you!" he pouted again._

_Kisuke looked down at his food, having not yet started eating._

_"But, I wonder," he said, quite seriously. Grimmjow stopped eating, swallowing harshly. When Kisuke started getting serious, shit was about to go down. "Why you'd be so closed to me staying there," he continued, a smirk growing on his face. "when you're fine sharing a roof with a demon."_

Mind. Fucking. Blown.

_Grimmjow couldn't move. He was frozen, stuck, unable to process what was happening. _

_"Wha-What are you- I don't- I can't-" Grimmjow couldn't formulate anything. His whole world had done a 180. Again. What was this, the third time now? How turned around did that make him? A 540? Where did that have him pointing?_

Down a very long, dark road with no chance_, Grimmjow thought tiredly._

_"Surprised, I take it. I hadn't thought Yoruichi told you, but I was never sure," he said as he cut into his steak and took a healthy bite, seeming to savour the taste. "Oh, you were right! This is quite good," he exclaimed, eagerly cutting another piece._

_Grimmjow watched in morbid fascination as he ate. He couldn't help but compare this to some of the killings he'd seen. This was less bloody, but a whole fucking lot more twisted. _

_"You're a-a… a seer." Grimmjow could hardly say it, couldn't fucking believe it. There was just no way._

_"Nope," Kisuke said between bites, pouring himself a glass of milk. Like nothing was wrong. Like Grimmjow's whole world hadn't blown apart again. Like everything was just so fucking _peachy!

_"Fuck you, Kisuke!" he screamed and grabbed his wrist, stopping him, because he just couldn't handle this in a domestic setting._

_"Something wrong, Grimmy?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow._

_Grimmjow's glare was as black as Ulquiorra's wings. All encompassing, dark and murderous, a death wish. "Do not fucking call me that right now."_

_Kisuke, wisely, said nothing. He merely removed his captive hand from Grimmjow's vice-like grip. He readjusted his hat and leaned back in his chair. _

_"I'm not a seer, actually. I can't fight demons because I can't see past their disguises and I don't know what might be coming at me and from where. And I cannot control one of your fabulous Zampaktou, your demon-slaying swords," he said for starters and sighed deeply. "I am a sensor," he continued. "I have an eight hundred mile radius and can locate demons anywhere within that perimeter. I can sense things such as their aura, power, even something about their attributes. For instance," he said, holding one finger up, "you're friend, Ulquiorra. He's a very powerful demon attributed with a bat. He came roughly two weeks ago, though he's been wandering in my range for about three and a half. He has a void feeling to him, as though he's empty, though that has begun to change recently." Kisuke finished, placing his hands together and waiting for a reaction._

_Grimmjow blinked once. Twice._

Slam!

_Grimmjow's head hit the table with no small amount of force. _

"_Fuck me," he muttered. _

Yeah, a hell of a visit that had been.

Grimmjow redirected his attention to Ulquiorra.

_A void feeling to him, as though he's empty._

Grimmjow looked out the window, contemplating.

_Though that has begun to change recently._

He wondered if maybe he'd done something, some action of his had allowed Ulquiorra to become less void, as Kisuke had put it. After that morning, he believed it. Ulquiorra was changing, something in Grimmjow was changing. _Fuck, all I need is another thing to flip my life again._

Ulquiorra shifted slightly and Grimmjow looked down again.

Grimmjow wanted to be the reason that Ulquiorra was getting "better." If what Kisuke said was true, than Ulquiorra was becoming attached to him, last night proving it more so. Grimmjow wouldn't disappoint or let Ulquiorra down. He'd be there for him, if only to see the hope in his eyes again.

The demon's eyes were softer now. He'd seen that much. Was he starting to feel something for Ulquiorra?

_Well, I kissed him, so probably._ Grimmjow had kissed him, true. It had seemed so right at the time. There was so much more to Ulquiorra, and Grimmjow couldn't help but want to know it all. He wondered if maybe Ulquiorra felt the same way.

Ulquiorra shuffled again and nuzzled his head deeper into Grimmjow's neck. _He fits so well._ Well, for better or for worse, he'd try this. He didn't know what good could come of being anything with a demon, but he was willing to, like he always did, jump in head first and say a royal "fuck you" to the consequences. It was all about the ride anyways.

**XXX**

AN: Hello all my readers! Again, I'd like to thank those who reviewed or alerted the story, so thank you very much!

Well, it occured to me that there hasn't been a whole lot of actual romance between our main couple here and I decided that was enough of that. Forgive me if Ulquiorra or Grimmjow or anyone seems really OOC in this but I figured hey, let's try a different angle here. I've never written for Ulquiorra, so I don't know if I do him justice. Then again, this is my first story ever, so I'd be glad to do any character justice at this point.

Another odd trend I noticed was that the plot is almost never advanced in real time, almost always in the flashbacks. And if the plot is advancd, or even developed in present time, then it's Neliel who's doing it! Sheesh, am I overcomplicating their thoughts? This story is like one inner monologue after the other! But I'll try and have things actually happening from here on out.

Now, I'm curious as to what you think. There's a lot of information, mostly histories, that I haven't actually put up yet. Like Ulquiorra's past with the Espada, or Neliel and Nnoirta, and though I've made mentions of it, I've never given an actual backstory to Grimmjow. Don't worry, all in good time. I also tend to switch POV's a bit, but I'm wondering who's you like to read the most. Maybe I can cater to that, you know, give a little extra in the mind of your favorite!

Well, I think that's enough for the Author's note for now. And of course (Disclaimer) I own nothing! Just my story idea.

Please read and review and all that jazz. Remember, a well reviewed author writes faster!

-Running Rampant


	6. I Love You

Hello again everyone! I bring you another update from my own little world here again.

The reviews are so incredibly heart-warming to read. I get a big smile on my face every time and thank you so much.

So, the whole 11 rows thing. I thought it was sort of a religious number, like 7 and 11 are the good numbers (not 7-11 gas stations, though that could be a religion in it's own right at this point as there's probably more of those than churches) and 6 and 13 are the bad ones. I'm not a real religious expert though so I could be wrong, and if I am, please disregard it, though I hope you sort of understand where I'm coming from.

Now, this chapter is super serious, and I hope I did it justice. I hope. So, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own bleach! If I did Grimmjow and Ulquiorra would walk around half naked most of the time and completely naked the rest of the time and there would be serious romantic drama constantly! But alas, I merely own this story idea.

**Chapter 6**

Neliel turned to face her obstacle. It was all he was to her now. An annoyance, a pest that must be dealt with immediately. She supposed she could overpower him if she needed to. They both knew who the stronger was. But she did not, by any means, wish to cause a disturbance. If anyone heard anything resembling a fight, which they would as demon hearing was just too keen to get away with anything of the sort, she would immediately be caught and foiled in her escape attempts. Which meant no bloodshed.

It also meant that Sazyel would be witness here to anything she said and did. She would have to be convincing, more so than she ever had been before, or Szayel would be suspicious and everything would be ruined.

"Quite an hour for a stroll," Neliel said, nodding her head vaguely in the direction of the large window a few feet from the door. It was around midnight, she estimated.

"Quite an accusation, coming from one doing the same," Szayel countered, crossing his arms. It did not look childish or challenging, and Neliel suspected it was nothing more than a gesture of boredom. Boredom she could work with. He merely wished for some entertainment, and figured it would be slightly more productive to hassle her for a while. She just had to ride his flickering whim out.

"Not really," she shrugged. "I often take walks at this hour. It clears my head." The dark look she directed at the wall to her right was in no way fake, and therefore Szayel would not interpret it as such. It was common knowledge that she had much to clear her head of. Nnoitra never did care to keep his endeavours with her a secret, no matter how twisted or sadistic.

"I suppose so," Szayel said without interest. That was good. Soon his mind would be directed to something else and their encounter would be all but forgotten to him until such a time when he would pull it up from the recesses of his mind when it would help in the search for yet another missing Espada. But by then she would be long gone and Szayel would only have memories and regrets to ponder over.

But it was best not to get ahead of herself at this point.

"Any destination in mind?" he asked, still seeming disinterest, though she would be a fool to disregard the gleam of something else, something dark and ridden with madness in his eyes. She would have to tread more carefully than she had assumed.

"It's a beautiful night. I had hoped to just walk in the moonlight. An hour or so, I suppose. Not everything needs a destination," she said vaguely, letting a dreamy note take over her voice. She needed to play her part well. Szayel may very well be the smartest of the Espada and it was no small task fooling him. The longer she strayed here, the bigger the chance she would be found out.

_So leave._ She could have growled it in Szayel's face. But she was not an idiot. _Well, I mated with Nnoitra so I could be._

"It is a beautiful night," he conceded, still not losing that strange gleam in his eyes. "However, something tells me your destination is more concrete then you're letting on." It took a lot for Neliel not to show any signs of worry or tenseness. Only years of careful acting and trickery on her own part had trained her for this.

"I did not realise you'd become an expert into the demon psyche. Perhaps you should fine tune such a skill. It could be useful in other circumstances instead of trying to pull empty information from me," she said coldly, letting her irritation show.

"So cruel, Neliel. I meant nothing by it. I value my life far too much to throw it away for the sake of an insult," he said, raising his hands in a mockery of surrender and appeasement, though whatever effect it would have had was ruined by his mischievous smile.

"I did not come here to be interrogated," Neliel said in a cutting voice. "I came to go for a walk, and walk I shall. Return to your own duties." She turned back from Szayel and reached for the door, trying not to look to eager.

"Of course, Neliel.," he said, and she could still hear the smile in his voice. "But something tells me you wouldn't raise a hand against me right now." Neliel froze, she couldn't help it. He knew so much more than he was saying, and he was _toying with her._

She turned back and gave him the best bored look she could throw up at the moment. "More assumptions, Szayel. I had thought you a demon who worked with facts alone," she said, smirking at him. It was easier to show mirth then complacent intentions right then. Perhaps it was the innate need in demons to make the weak subservient to them, perhaps it was so much time spent under Nnoitra's own hand and she wished to show her own power, but she wanted Szayel to bend under her will right then. Her bloodlust was frightening, even a distant, sane part of her mind understood as much. But she was consumed with something better, darker, _stronger,_ and she wanted more of it.

"Keep going though," she said, not really registering the wild grin growing on her features. "See how far you can push me tonight. I wonder how you'll find out. Maybe you'll realise it when your skull crumbles in my hands or when your chest is ripped open or when all your limbs are gone and your left slowly bleeding out as your black blood runs across the floor and stains the new white tiles." The idea of white fuelled her further. Suddenly, she wanted to rip Szayel apart, see red on more of the white. It would be incredible, because red was so much better. "Yes, I like that one. Or I'll slit your throat and paint you all over the walls. And I'll rip out your entrails and scatter them all over for some contrast. And I'll hang your severed head from the ceiling fan and it'll splatter blood all over like a mad painter who needs creativity!" She was laughing again. She couldn't stop. She was tugging at her hair and her clothes and she was throwing her head in all directions because it was so odd how all the white blended and made more white, like a never ending tunnel and it led to white and swirled with other white and made more white. "Creativity that needs red, so you'll need to die. Slowly, because I want a lot of red and you make lots of red, in your blood, you know," she giggled and then roared with laughter.

Szayel was watching her, having backed up a bit, with renewed interest. He was beginning to wonder if he should get Nnoitra to calm her down, as mates usually good. Then he realised that would probably only make it worse.

"Weren't you going for a walk?" Szayel reminded her. He'd seen enough. This wasn't fake. She was losing her mind.

Neliel froze in her actions and stared blankly at Szayel for a good three minutes. She was slumped over, one hand pulling at her green tresses, the other stretched behind her as though she was searching for purchase on something back there. Her eyes were wide and tears shone in them, though Szayel couldn't discern whether they were from happiness or disparity. He assumed it was a mix of both.

Finally she straightened up, fixed her clothes and hair half-heartedly.

"Yes, yes I was. Thank you Szayel." Her voice sounded oddly docile in comparison.

She walked outside without another word and Szayel was left to ponder what he'd just seen, and most likely where she was going.

_Because I doubt she'd coming back._

Szayel shrugged and walked calmly back to his room. He'd find out, regardless. He doubted, in her fit, she'd even felt him put the tracking bug on her.

**XXX**

Ulquiorra blinked twice, then twice more, because the sight before him was bizarre in ways he had never imagined. In his life, his eyes had never failed him. He prided himself on having very keen eyesight, even for a demon. He supposed it had something to do with his bat attribution. He'd never questioned it, never given it a second thought. Until that moment, that is.

Because, it was inconceivable to think that he was actually seeing a slightly moving, wide expanse of sun-bronzed skin, seeming to have been stretched too tight over an abundance of muscles.

And then, of course, everything flooded back into his mind. The storm of emotions, all of his realizations, and finally ending up kissing a half-naked Grimmjow in his bed a few hours prior.

_I wonder what it would take to get him fully naked, _he mused.

But that shouldn't have been his biggest concern at that moment. It should have been that he was in bed with a human, a mortal of all things. Trash. Or that he was quite intimately wrapped with him. It went against everything he'd ever lived for; his emotionless life, his blank personality, his control of his own immense power and everything about himself. All of this should have been on the top of his list of concerns.

Should have.

Not was. What he really wanted was Grimmjow to drop his pants so Ulquiorra could have a full view to admire and praise. Preferably with his tongue.

It seemed there were definitely elements of lust poking at him, though he doubted that was the only new-found emotion circling in him.

_Still… _Didn't change anything. Ulquiorra wondered how far his old self control stemmed into his new self. Most likely not far when it came to Grimmjow.

_Grimmjow…_ Ulquiorra couldn't resist. He let his tongue dance out and licked at the expanse of corded neck exposed to him. Grimmjow jumped a bit but otherwise did not intervene, though he could feel goose bumps break out over him. Ulquiorra barely cared. He tasted so very unbelievably _good_ that Ulquiorra's eyes rolled back a bit and he nearly moaned.

Fuck self-control.

Fuck all the rules he'd ever been taught.

_Fuck me._ He wanted to scream it to Grimmjow. Ulquiorra bet that he'd feel the most alive if Grimmjow were in him, a part of him, truly sharing his life with him.

He rubbed his body against the strong body beneath him, feeling Grimmjow's undeniably strong heartbeat pick up its pace.

"U-Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow said shakily, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop the rubbing. "What are you-!" Grimmjow cut off with a gasp. Ulquiorra had brought a leg up to rub against Grimmjow's crotch.

"Say my name again," Ulquiorra whispered in his ear. _I feel so warm…_ As though Grimmjow were transmitting all of his heat into him. _I want to feel it in me._ "Again and again and again…" he whispered with every stroke of his leg against a rapidly hardening Grimmjow.

"Stop! Ulquiorra that's enou-" He was cut off again as Ulquiorra slammed his lips against Grimmjow's, this time not so innocent. It was a clash of teeth and tongues and so so _so _good that Ulquiorra couldn't comprehend it.

"Yes, just like that," he murmured, trailing his hands down Grimmjow's strong chest.

"Oi, that wasn't an invitation!" Grimmjow growled, trying to turn his pleased sound into one of agitation. Ulquiorra didn't buy it.

"This is, though," he said amusedly, running a finger against his clothed erection. "Let me make you feel good, Grimmjow," he whispered, sliding suggestively up Grimmjow's body. He felt a twitch when he uttered his desire's name. "Let me run my hands through your hair, let me twine my legs with yours, let me lick you all over, let me feel you inside me, let me cry your name all day, all night," Ulquiorra purred. He was high on his emotions, wanting to feel more of Grimmjow. To not be completely connected to him was not enough. He wanted more and more.

Ulquiorra was so caught up in his fantasies of what Grimmjow could do to him, he didn't realise that Grimmjow had positioned himself so that his legs and arms were gripping his in a vulnerable position. Suddenly, Grimmjow flipped them so he was holding Ulquiorra's wrists above his head, his legs pinned down.

"Enough," he said definitely. A bead of sweat fell down Grimmjow's face, his hair falling over his face. His blue eyes were dark with confusion, and if he wasn't mistaken, the same emotions wracking his own body. His face was hovering inches over Ulquiorra's. Ulquiorra looked up with a need that only Grimmjow could sate. He was so close, but so very far away.

"Make love to me, Grimmjow," he whispered, and he, Ulquiorra, feared member of the Espada known for his emotionless, ruthless style and uncaring persona, heard his voice break. It was like glass shattering, a wall he'd thought made of stone actually made of something so easily breakable. But he didn't care. He wanted Grimmjow to break down all of him and remould him into Grimmjow's. Only his. Only ever his.

**XXX**

Grimmjow heard it, his soft voice breaking as though he was in pain. It cracked something inside of him, tugged at heartstrings he hadn't known he had. Grimmjow lowered his face until he was centimeters away from Ulquiorra's face. His lips.

Ulquiorra's emerald green eyes stared longingly back into his. _This is all he wants, _he realized suddenly. But the next realization was all he needed. _This is all I want._

He pressed his lips against Ulquiorra's again, taking it slow. His tongue prodded at Ulquiorra's mouth and he immediately, obediently, opened his mouth to Grimmjow's advances. Grimmjow explored Ulquiorra's cavern, learning every curve and crevice. He wanted to know Ulquiorra, inside and out.

He let go of Ulquiorra's wrists and softly trailed his hands down the skinny arms, paying attention to the sensitive inner parts. Ulquiorra was already trembling but stayed still, wanting Grimmjow to continue.

_He's afraid I'll stop again._ Grimmjow lifted his mouth from Ulquiorra's and kissed his eyelids, one at a time, slowly. Ulquiorra's breath hitched and a very tiny whimper escaped him. Grimmjow pulled back for a moment to look at the man beneath him.

Ulquiorra was flushed, his face showing more color than ever before. His eyes were glassy, shining in the pale light drifting in through the curtains. His hair was mussed beyond help, spread out and making a halo around his head. A black halo, one befitting a demon such as himself.

_A demon…_

Grimmjow sat up immediately, breathing hard and resting his head in his hands, leaning over the edge of the bed. He couldn't. It wasn't right. Ulquiorra didn't even think he could see him. He was, in essence, lying to him.

And Grimmjow was lying to himself.

He couldn't forgive them, not any of them. Every demon had ruined so many lives uncaringly. One had ruined his life for the _fucking hell of it._ How many lives had he ended? How many others had he destroyed in the process? How many sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, fathers and mothers? _Just like mine._ He lowered his arms to dangle over his legs, stretched over the side of the bed.

_I wish it was different,_ Grimmjow thought as his head fell lower, like he was curling in on himself. Like he never wanted to leave the false safety of a ghostly embrace.

"Grimmjow?" came a breathless whisper from behind him. He felt Ulquiorra's arms wind around his midriff, holding Ulquiorra's body firmly against his back. "Come back." It was a plea filled with desperation and sorrow and Grimmjow swore his heart missed a beat. He turned before his mind could come to terms with his actions.

Ulquiorra was pressed up against his front now, his hands on Grimmjow's shoulders. _Like the first time we met, like all that's keeping him here is me._ Grimmjow stroked Ulquiorra's hair, effectively cupping his head in his hands. In long stroking motions, he moved his hands down Ulquiorra's back.

Grimmjow wondered what he looked like. He'd never been good at hiding his emotions to those he cared about. And he felt immense sorrow for something that could never be. His whole body hurt, like he'd taken a terrible beating. But this, this was so much worse, because no one could ever cure this pain. Ulquiorra could never be his.

He felt the joints in his back that connected Ulquiorra's wings and had to bite back a sob. _We can never be together. We can never be anything._ He ran his hands over Ulquiorra's wings, and Ulquiorra's eyes widened and he froze in place. Grimmjow knew that he shouldn't be able to feel them. They should have the consistency of air to him, because he was human and demons had defenses against being caught by humans. Demons could make their unnatural protrusions phantoms so humans never felt them, so they would walk right through them. However, he could see them, and could feel them as only one who knew they were there could, and none could hide from his keen, hated eyes. Grimmjow had never wished more in his life that he could not see than at that moment, staring into Ulquiorra's own eyes, finally seeing as well. _We've both blindly wished for something that we knew could only bring about our demise, whether in our lives or selves._

"No…" he whispered, and the demon began to shake uncontrollably. "Please… No…" His claws came up to cover his eyes and they shook even harder. His head moved back and forth, as though physically denying it could change everything. But nothing could change the truth; else Grimmjow would have done it long, long ago. "Grimmjow, I-"

Grimmjow got off the bed, leaving Ulquiorra alone on the sheets where so much could have happened, where so much already had. His sudden departure stopped Ulquiorra. But it didn't matter. Nothing could be said. Nothing could make it better. Nothing either of them could ever do could change one damn thing, and they both knew it. Words were pointless now.

He walked across the room without a word, without even looking back.

He reached for the door handle but was stopped by a harsh cry from Ulquiorra.

"Don't go!" he cried. He _cried._ Grimmjow could hear the tears in his voice. "Don't leave me, please don't leave me," Ulquiorra's voice was soft and despairing, broken by sobs.

Grimmjow's hand shook hard on the door. He couldn't _take_ this! This was not supposed to happen, not any of it.

"You don't know!" Grimmjow shouted, whirling around to shout at the despairing demon on the bed. "You could never know what it's like to have everything you ever cared about ripped away from you right before you!" He was shaking all over now. "Do you want to know why I hate you all so much? Because you're monsters. Because you don't _care_ who you hurt along the way. And I bet you can't tell me that you haven't killed hundreds just because you had nothing better to do! How many lives have you ruined? How many people lie awake night and day and cry for their lost loved ones and it's all your fault?"

Ulquiorra remained silent, unable to hold Grimmjow's gaze when he knew it was true. Everything was pouring out into the open and both men could feel their hopes and happiness pouring out of them with it.

"You're just the same as all of them. You kill, you shrug it off, you do it again." Grimmjow continued to stare at Ulquiorra's averted eyes. "Just the same as the ones who killed my parents."

"_Get away!" she screamed, her voice almost surreal to Grimmjow's ears. His mother had never sounded so hysterical. She had never been so afraid, hell, she'd never been afraid period. He'd watched his mother slay demon after demon fearlessly, her orange hair flying and her bright blue eyes, so much like his own, shining in superiority and the knowledge that none could match her. She was beautiful, she was invincible, she was his mother._

_Grimmjow could barely recognize her as she lay, curled on the floor, having spasms and screaming in a blood-curdling, chilling sort of way._

"_Grimmjow no! Don't come any closer!" Her voice had reached a pitch that hurt his ears._

"_Mom, hang on! Dad'll be here soon. Please just wait mom. He'll help you," the eight year old boy cried helplessly. He couldn't understand what was wrong with her. "What's wrong, mom?" _

"_Run, Grimmjow! You run away right now! Find your father! Find him. Please just g-" she was cut off by another soul-searing scream, her head thrown back in unimaginable pain. _

_Grimmjow ran to his mother, not for the first time, but she howled at him again and pushed him away._

"_Stay away from me, Grimmjow! I don't know how much longer I can stop it!" Her beautiful, gold-like hair was frayed and matted with sweat and blood. Grimmjow felt more tears slip down his face. What could have possibly been wrong with his lovely, wonderful mother?_

"_Rangiku!" came a strong, hard voice, strong and hard from years of enduring demons and hardships. His tall, muscly build that Grimmjow would likely inherit and mane of long blue hair fell down his back, usually in waves though now it was quite a mess. Grimmjow had inherited a lighter version of it. His own blue eyes were a darker, stormier blue than Grimmjow and Rangiku's. Two scars, dark blue burn marks inflicted by a demon, crossed his face in an X pattern. _

"_Hyorinmaru!" Rangiku cried, reaching a trembling hand out to her husband and Grimmjow's father. "Get Grimmjow out of here!" she cried and doubled over again, speaking in a language Grimmjow had never heard of before but it sounded disturbingly similar to the noises some of the demons his parents had killed had made when he had assumed they were spitting curses at his illustrious folks._

"_Shit," Hyorinmaru whispered, clutching his son's arm and pulling him up from in his knees. "Rangiku…" he whispered softly. He knew what had happened. Grimmjow, however, was still oblivious. He started screaming his mother's name when she finally stopped screaming, stopped moving. But then, she got up, like she was fine. _

"_Mom!" Grimmjow cried happily, trying to run to her, but Hyorinmaru held fast to his son. Rangiku staggered a bit, a strange smile on her face. Grimmjow sensed that something wasn't right. He screamed louder for her. Crying again and again her name, and for her to wake up._

_Her head fell at an awkward angle, and she staggered again, nearly falling. A deranged laugh echoed from her mouth, though not in any voice Grimmjow had ever heard her speak in. Strange hisses and dark, what he assumed to be, words were spilling from her mouth. And still Grimmjow cried out to her, for her._

"_She can't hear you anymore, Grimmjow." His father's strong hand was on his shoulder, Grimmjow was on his knees again, panting for breath, but it was like there was no air._

_"She can! She has to! Mom, please wake up! Please don't!" He gripped his hair, thrashing his head back and forth, back and forth. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. Not real, not real, not-_

_"She's gone, Grimmjow." His voice was so sure, so accepting of it. Why him? Why them? He was eight years old, his parents loved him, they lived happily. Things like this didn't happen, they just didn't. That's why it wasn't real. Not real, not real, not real… please…_

_"No! No, she can't be! Mom! MOM!"_

_Hyorinmaru drew the sword and, faster than Grimmjow could see, it was stuck through his mother's chest, protruding in an unreal way out of her back. _

_She coughed once, twice, and fell to the ground in a heap, unmoving. Dead._

"_MOM!" he cried again and fell in his own heap, a crying, writhing mess._

_He felt his father stroking his back. "Grimmjow, it's going to be alright." His father's voice was soothing and calming, it had always been. But right then, he was inconsolable. _

"_She-" sniff- "she's gone," he cried. "Forever," he sobbed heartbrokenly. _

Grimmjow watched as Ulquiorra's eyes stared unbelievingly at him. And Grimmjow just stared dully back. He looked for all the world like nothing could ever faze him, like nothing ever had.

"We found out that it was all some set up from a freakishly powerful demon named Aizen. He took over my mother's mind, but she fought until the bitter end." Ulquiorra couldn't take his eyes off Grimmjow now. "He wanted to kill all seers. And he wanted to crush us. If he couldn't kill our bodies, he'd kill everything inside of us.

"My dad died two years later, tried to take down Aizen but ended up dead," Grimmjow said, still in that blank, dead voice. He allowed himself a second of amusement as he realised he sounded very much like Ulquiorra at that moment, and Ulquiorra was the one who was stuffed with emotions.

"A seer I know, Ichigo, ended up killing him. That is one tough kid. Got into a scrap with a demon and ended up nearly dying in some demon hide-out called the Shattered Shaft. After that, he ended up accidentally getting some demon blood mixed in his system with this fight that had him in some sort of spirit form and ended him up at the bottom of a well. Kind of a confusing story, I won't go into detail. Now he's got a demon inside him that's always fighting to take over, Shiro I think, and Ichigo's just gotten stronger and stronger. Bet he wouldn't have been able to beat Aizen without that psycho demon Shiro in him," Grimmjow recalled. He knew he was stalling for time, but he couldn't bring himself to terms with what he had to do just yet. "Lives in Japan now, helping out his dad at some medical clinic. Heard he still takes on the odd demon in his down time."

Ulquiorra still hadn't said a god-damned word.

"But, I guess I'm rambling," he sighed, shaking his head. _I can't run from it anymore. _

"You know," Grimmjow said, his head bowed and turned away, because he just couldn't bear to look. "I think I'm in love with you." His voice had never held such hopelessness. "I'm fucking in love with you," he growled and slammed his fist against the door. "And I can never be with you!" He wrenched the door open and stumbled into the hall leading to the kitchen. He grasped the wall for support because fuck, he couldn't walk on his own right now. He made it to the kitchen and used the counters to keep himself moving. Because the living room was right there. And the fireplace was right there.

He grabbed the mantle and was surprised it didn't break with the force of his grip.

Why had this happened? Of everything that could have? Ulquiorra had to find him. He had to want to repent. He had to strike something in Grimmjow that he couldn't resist. Grimmjow had to _love him_.

He took a hold of Pantera, gripping it familiarly. He had to end this, because the longer it was drawn out, the worse it would be.

"Grimmjow!" Grimmjow turned and saw Ulquiorra standing not five feet away, shaking still and tears rolling down his cheeks. His own vision was blurry and he could feel hot tracks running down his face.

_I haven't cried since my mother died._

He lifted Pantera and pointed it at Ulquiorra.

"I'm so sorry, Ulquiorra," he whispered and walked forward. He wrapped his arms around Ulquiorra one last time. _Just once more._ He held the sword steadily, pointing it at his dead heart. "But I have to do this, for all the people you've killed, in body and spirit," he said. His grip was strong, but the rest of him shook. This would be it. No other option. No other choice. Just kill, avenge and be done with it.

"Be quick," Ulquiorra whispered back, falling into his embrace easily, as though they were back in the room, like nothing in the last few minutes had happened.

_Minutes. It's only been minutes. An hour at best._

Ulquiorra looked into Grimmjow's eyes then, and they shone with so much emotion that Grimmjow couldn't help but be drawn in.

"Grimmjow, I love you," he said in the softest voice. If it hadn't been dead quiet, Grimmjow wouldn't have heard him.

And he smiled. So elated, so happy, even though he was going to die.

"I love you," he repeated, and he only seemed to get happier. "So I'm glad it's you."

He took hold of the blade in Grimmjow's hands, puling it closer to him. His skin festered and boiled where it touched him, just like the time before. "I have never been happier, so I'm glad." His eyes shone with _love._ So much of it that Grimmjow let loose a sob and felt all of his hidden, supressed pain seethe under his skin. "I love you, Grimmjow."

"I love you, Ulquiorra."

**XXX**

AN: My first cliffy! And man, I bet you guys aren't to happy with me for that. Just stay tuned and you'll see what happens.

I swear this story writes itself. I originally intended the whole confession of love and that Ulquiorra's a demon to be something of a comedy moment. Ulquiorra reveals what he is and Grimmjow just kinda shrugs and says, "Yea, I know. How many pancakes?" or something to that effect. However, this sort of happened and it seemed a lot more dramatic and true to the story idea. The comedy has really suffered for it though. I'll try and make up for it later.

Neliel's thing also just kind of happened. I never really intended for her to lose it again on Szayel there but I saw an oppurtunity and took it to showcase that Neliel really has some inner demons (BAD PUN!) to work through.

I don't know how good it was, but I'll let you be the judge of that! And to do that, you'll have to review. So, as always, please read and review and I'll write faster!

I hope you're all enjoying it so far! Thanks to everyone who reads this and enjoys it, because I always have to give a shout out to my awesome readers, whom without this story would not be possible.


	7. Slept All Day

AN: And of course, I am back. Wow, seven reviews for one chapter! I'm flattered. That's more than twice what I've gotten before! So thank you.

Well, here's another chapter. I hope you all enjoy it!

**Chapter 7**

_Who could deserve a death so sweet? _

Ulquiorra looked into the eyes of the man who'd changed his whole miserable life. It hadn't been for long, especially when you looked at the length of his long, drawn-out, dredging life, but it was so much more than he'd ever expected. To have had a chance with him, to have spent this time with him, to have _kissed _him and _loved _him and, even more, to be _loved in return._

Ulquiorra had pondered the matter of death long and hard in his time on earth. He'd always thought it to be an empty extension of his empty existence. Death was even a welcome break from the monotony of his life. Of course there was an innate fear of it. All humans had it, as he had to in his long-gone human days, but it was one of the deep-rooted things that had held. Ulquiorra did not like to experience things he did not fully understand, and death fell perfectly into that category.

But then again, so did love. And love was hardly something to fear. So perhaps death was not such an unwelcome and frightening alternative as he had previously assumed.

After all, he had also pondered love. He had always thought love was a foolish thing, clouding your vision and a means of justifying rash and irrational decisions in the name of your other. He had thought it a nuisance, and from the outside looking in, it was unappealing. It turned smart into stupid, careful into careless, control into chaos, and Ulquiorra had never wanted that. He had liked his quiet, controlled life well enough. Well, he didn't so much like it as he tolerated it. He tolerated everything. All the world was a grievance, an annoyance that pesters and buzzes in your ear like a mindless fly. When one could look at love, the buzzing was dull and he couldn't understand how anyone could lose themselves in such a lack-lustre false paradise.

Now he knew. The buzzing was a roar, and he was unable to block it out. He no longer had to stand outside and look at the love he'd never known he'd been jealous of. He had it in his arms, beneath his claws. The strong, corded muscle and skin, bronzed though winter had just passed. The warmth that pervaded his very existence. And beneath that was the beating heart that flourished and provided the warmth and the vitality of the life he'd grown to be addicted to. A drug that could never harm him.

_Debatable, that one,_ Ulquiorra thought a little dryly as his skin started bubbling unnaturally where the blade had shallowly pierced the skin protecting his long-dead heart in a very painful manner.

_But my heart is not so dead as I would have thought,_ Ulquiorra reminded himself, feeling it beat again. It wasn't a human rhythm, it beat when it so pleased. But it was enough. Enough to know that Grimmjow had eternally changed him. He could never go back.

And he would probably never go forward. Grimmjow looked bound and determined, the tears and sorrow in his eyes strangely not taking away from that inner strength and resolve. They both knew what had to happen. Because Grimmjow had been right, Ulquiorra had ruined many, many lives, some for no other reason that because he could. And he deserved to die.

_I do not deserve such a death, though,_ Ulquiorra thought, his eyes never wavering or leaving Grimmjow's. _I should be maimed and tortured for centuries and never should I see this face again nor hear those blessed words spill from his mouth. I do not deserve it. I do not deserve him._

"You shake," Ulquiorra whispered, because anything louder would have spoiled such a sacred moment. It didn't matter that Grimmjow had the blade pointed at his heart and ready to strike, it was sacred, as sacred as any moment had ever been or ever would be.

"No," Grimmjow whispered back, gritting his teeth. "I hesitate."

Ulquiorra was slightly taken aback, but he did not show it. "You are not one to hesitate," he stated, laying a hand against Grimmjow's cheek and cupping his face. Ulquiorra felt his body grow warm again when Grimmjow leaned his head into his claw with serene abandon, as though his touch would take him away from this moment and to a world where all was right, and they could forever be together.

"I am different with you," he said. He spoke differently when they were together like this, as though he knew this was no time for slang or words to come out half-wittedly. Everything had a deep-resonating meaning to it.

"I do not wish for you to change," Ulquiorra replied, rubbing his thumb across Grimmjow's lips. His tongue darted out to catch the finger and Ulquiorra could not suppress his shiver.

"I have not changed," he countered, his eyes piercing and strong, still despite the wetness. "I show you what I can show no other."

Ulquiorra's own eyes still shone with tears shed and unshed. "You should kill me now," he said, his face inching closer to Grimmjow's. "Or I won't be able to stop myself." Their lips were so close, just a few inches more…

Grimmjow backed away, out of Ulquiorra's embrace. Ulquiorra immediately collapsed to his knees, unsupported by anything. But what did it matter? His legs were nothing, his body was nothing, he was nothing, nothing without Grimmjow.

"If you insist on leaving me, please do me the last favour of killing me," Ulquiorra said unabashedly. There was no shame, as well there shouldn't be. He did not do things that would shame him. "I cannot bear to be away from you." Ulquiorra tried to lift an arm to Grimmjow, but it shook violently with the emotions and new-found love that wracked his body.

Grimmjow turned away from him and Ulquiorra could almost hear his heart break. What was left of it, anyways. He fell bodily to the ground, unmoving, unseeing. The blade through his chest would have been much less painful. His eyes stared blankly forward to the wall beside the fireplace, but it was hazy and distorted. Nothing was really there, anyways.

He'd stopped hearing as well, for sound made no impact on him in this new reality without Grimmjow, so he did not hear the shuffling of a body sitting down next to him.

He felt when two strong arms encircled him, though. They were real, so very real because they were a part of _him_ that Ulquiorra had no choice but to acknowledge it. He was lifted to lean against that strong chest he'd been admiring minutes ago and suddenly he came alive. His arms, still shaking from everything with the rest of his body, wrapped around the neck of his beloved, pulling himself flush against his strong, living stone. He dragged his legs over Grimmjow's and wound them around his broad waist and he clung to him like a frail child afraid of being dropped a thousand feet. He shook against Grimmjow, and still there was no shame. Let Grimmjow see him like this, and take him for what he was.

Or he would leave, and Ulquiorra would stab himself with that lethal blade.

Grimmjow's hands rubbed up and down his back comfortingly. _How odd that he is comforting me, as he probably needs it just as much as I do._ But he could barely contain himself, let alone help Grimmjow at that moment.

"I won't leave you," Grimmjow whispered directly into Ulquiorra's ear.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra whispered as he trembled in Grimmjow's strong grasp. Through his shaking he was able to pull Grimmjow down on top of him. He let Ulquiorra do as he pleased and followed his lead.

Ulquiorra ran his hands from Grimmjow's face and down across his shoulders and chest, his cut, masculine torso to his grey pants, held up by a drawstring. He hesitantly pulled on the hem, attempting to rid Grimmjow of the cloth. It did him no justice, only he could ever be so brilliant.

Grimmjow helped him, kicking off his pants and starting on Ulquiorra's.

When his were off, Ulquiorra gently pushed at Grimmjow's chest. "I want to see you," he panted softly, gazing into his sapphire eyes. "To admire you."

Grimmjow nodded once and slowly got off of the bat demon. Ulquiorra felt a chill sweep his body without Grimmjow to sate him.

It was worth it, though. Grimmjow stared hungrily down at him with lusting, loving blue eyes the color of a beautiful ocean, the purest he had ever seen. His chest heaved slowly, though they both knew he'd be heaving harder soon. The sculpted muscles of his chest, his arms, his stomach, they all had Ulquiorra writhing in pleasure as he looked upon them. His powerful legs went on forever, strong and firm. And his length was no different. It was large, a size to be proud of, and standing tall in front of him.

Ulquiorra finished his looking and could hardly contain himself from jumping back into Grimmjow's arms, but he waited and posed for him. He tried to seem desirable to Grimmjow in turn, bringing his arms to rest on either side of his head comfortably and letting his hair fan out behind him. He let his wings spread out behind him in an attempt to make them seem welcoming instead of menacing.

_How could I ever be desirable to him?_ Ulquiorra thought despondently. But the vulnerability in his eyes seemed to freeze Grimmjow in place and had him staring, his heart sounding as though it would beat right out of his chest and into Ulquiorra's hands where it belonged.

Grimmjow lowered himself back onto Ulquiorra, earning both of them a sigh of relief and longing.

And they were kissing again. It wasn't slow, nor was it hard. It was passionate and intense and it had both of them all but begging for more.

Grimmjow gently nipped on Ulquiorra's lower lip and Ulquiorra happily granted him entrance. He played back with Grimmjow's tongue, enjoying the sweet sensation. Grimmjow's hands had begun to wander as well. His hands had travelled lower on his back to the small of his back and around to rub up his chest, stopping when he felt the sensitive nipple poking at his hand. He gently played with it and Ulquiorra mewled into the kiss. Grimmjow twirled it around, playing it a bit rougher. Ulquiorra gasped and almost wrenched away from the kiss, the sensations travelling through his whole body. He repeated the treatment to the other nub as well, playing with both now. Ulquiorra stirred restlessly under him, arching slightly.

He finally ended his pleasurable torture on Ulquiorra and let one hand wrap around Ulquiorra's back to rub his spine, which earned him a sigh of blissful pleasure, and let his other hand travel lower on the demon's body.

Ulquiorra gasped and threw his head back, unable to hold the kiss any longer when Grimmjow grabbed hold of Ulquiorra's erection. His arms, having been moving minutely from their position around Grimmjow's neck, tightened considerably and his claws dug into his back.

Grimmjow was unfazed and moved his kisses to Ulquiorra's exposed neck, making sure to suck and nip alternately. He would leave no mistake in anyone's mind who Ulquiorra belonged to. The claw marks on his back would suffice for his own mark.

Ulquiorra was still trying to come to terms with the strong hand pumping him when Grimmjow assaulted his necks and he could not help the soft cry of pleasure that escaped him.

"Let me hear you, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow whispered. His name from his lovers' lips threw him and he forgot to try to hold them in.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra moaned, panting harshly now.

"Again baby, again," he purred, giving longer, harder strokes to Ulquiorra.

"Ah! Grimmjow," he moaned again. "I need-I need to…" He lost his train of thought.

"What do you need, Ulquiorra?" he inquired in a husky voice, giving a particularly hard suck to Ulquiorra's pulse point, still so sensitive though he hadn't had a pulse in so long.

"I need to feel you!" he cried out, arching into Grimmjow with abandon. "In me," he whispered, trying to regain control. _A hopeless endeavour if there ever was one._

"Ulquiorra," Grimmjow growled into his neck. He tapped three fingers against Ulquiorra's lips and raised his head to stare heatedly into his eyes. "Get them good and wet for me," he said and his voice had Ulquiorra's eyes rolling back into his head. He took the fingers into his mouth and rolled his tongue over them suggestively. He ran his tongue between them and sucked them explicitly. Grimmjow's gaze darkened again.

He popped his fingers out when he deemed them wet enough.

"Grimmjow," he said in an almost teasing voice. "Next time, that will be your cock."

Ulquiorra felt a definite twitch in Grimmjow's nether regions at that.

He smashed his lips against Ulquiorra's. It was a desperate need and a means of distraction as his first finger circled Ulquiorra's waiting hole and slowly entered him. Ulquiorra winced slightly. The sensation was quite odd. He'd never felt something so strange. It wasn't all too painful, so he saw no reason to complain. And it was Grimmjow doing it, and he could do whatever he liked.

Grimmjow added the second finger and began pumping in and out of him slowly. Ulquiorra furrowed his eyebrows and tried to keep his breathing in check. _More painful,_ he thought, pushing his head into Grimmjow's shoulder.

"You okay?" Grimmjow asked, his voice thick with desire and worry, a strange combination.

"Yes, continue," Ulquiorra said, unwilling to let on that perhaps he was not.

"Don't push yourself," Grimmjow whispered to him, nuzzling his head into Ulquiorra's.

Ulquiorra nodded and waited about a half a minute before giving the go-ahead. Grimmjow added another finger and Ulquiorra seized up immediately.

"Relax, it won't hurt as much," Grimmjow tried to soothe him.

"I-I don't know if I can," he panted harshly, trying to get some control, and failing.

"It's okay, Ulquiorra. It's okay. I'm right here," Grimmjow consoled him, stroking his hair softly. All the while his fingers were searching, searching…

Ulquiorra suddenly arched back and gave a harsh cry. "Ah, there Grimmjow, there!" he cried wantonly, pushing back on Grimmjow's fingers.

Grimmjow grinned and hit that spot a few more times before pulling out completely. Ulquiorra whined disappointedly.

His disappointment was quickly replaced with anticipation though when he felt something much bigger prodding at his entrance.

"Grimmjow," he moaned, arching again. "I need you, please," he whispered in a sultry voice.

Grimmjow couldn't contain himself. He thrust in in one harsh move, angling himself to hit that spot that would have Ulquiorra seeing stars.

"Ah! Grimmjow!" Ulquiorra cried, his head falling back and gasping for air.

Grimmjow grinned and continued to hit that spot.

"God Ulquiorra. You're fucking tight," he groaned, pushing in deeper and deeper. Ulquiorra clamped down on him every now and again and it felt so _good._

Ulquiorra decided Grimmjow must have killed him before, because nothing real could feel so great. He moaned over and over, crying Grimmjow's name when he was hit just right.

It didn't take long before they could both feel their impending releases.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiora cried out again. "I'm going to-" he cut himself off with another moan.

"I know, Ulqui. Me too." Ulquiorra only had a second to have a confused thought of _Ulqui?_ before his vision went white and every thought was wiped clean from his mind but for the blinding pleasure. He screamed Grimmjow's name into the night, his back arching again and his wings spreading to their full height at his sides and quivering in ecstasy.

Grimmjow released seconds after with a strangled cry of "Fuck, Ulquiorra!" before he too collapsed.

They lay like that, in front of the fireplace, panting and attempting to catch their breath.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said, raising a hand to brush through his messy blue mane. "I love you."

Grimmjow smiled softly, his eyes shining. "I love you to, Ulquiorra."

He kissed his forehead gently before he got up. "I'll be right back," he said. Ulquiorra nodded and waited.

Amazing, it was better than anything he'd ever thought he could experience. _Grimmjow…_

Grimmjow was back almost instantly with a blanket and a box of matches. He placed the blanket over Ulquiorra and tucked it up to his chin before turning back to the fireplace and striking a match. Ulquiorra watched as the wood fireplace lit up easily and Grimmjow threw a few more logs on.

"I have centralised heating, this is just more romantic, ya know?" he said, laying down next to Ulquiorra under the blanket. Ulquiorra smiled and cuddled up to his new lover. His only lover.

"Quite," he said, laying his head back in the crook of Grimmjow's neck.

"Ya like it there, huh," Grimmjow teased, stroking his hair.

Ulquiorra didn't answer, merely snuggled in closer.

"Grimmjow, what changed your mind?" Ulquiorra asked.

Grimmjow sighed and stroked his hair softly. "I've seen a lot of shit go down over the years, people dying, getting ripped apart, getting ripped away. I never got a say in it, not this life or this ability. I'd often sit up at night and wonder, why me? So many people I'd cared about had died, been taken away from me. I just thought that I couldn't handle anyone else I loved leaving like that. This time it would have been my fault, I'd have done it to myself and I could never justify it. Not really. Yea you're a demon and I'm sure you've done your share of bad things, like really bad, but I know that you want to start over. That's good enough for me. It wouldn't be right to kill off that one remaining hope that demons can change, that there's a choice in your life, that it doesn't have to be spelled out for you like some bloody contract you can never escape." Grimmjow was breathing a bit harder now. He had to be quite passionate about the subject.

_Choice._ It resonated within Grimmjow, something that he cared for deeply. Ulquiorra understood more than he ever did right then that he'd been spared not only because Grimmjow was in love with him, though that was certainly no small influence. Grimmjow had wanted to cling to his own hope that there was something else out there for him. If Ulquiorra were to die by Grimmjow's hand, then so to would his hopeful future that eventually he would have a choice.

Ulquiorra was surprised he could be so deep.

He craned his neck a bit to see Grimmjow, as his expression had to be very passionate ad Ulquiorra lived that about him.

"Ah!" Grimmjow suddenly shouted and clasped his left eye in his left hand. Ulquiorra blinked in bewilderment.

"Freakin' horns," he muttered, rubbing his eye and glaring half-heartedly down at Ulquiorra. It was hard to glare for real at someone you'd just confessed your love to.

Ulquiorra quickly ducked his head in mild embarrassment, which in turn whapped Grimmjow in the entire left side of his face.

"Mother of fucking God!" he shouted, cupping his face in his hands.

"Ah, Grimmjow I'm sorry," Ulquiorra said, trying to see and accidently cutting into Grimmjow's bicep with his claw.

"Holy fucking hell! What the fuck are you doing!" he shouted, covering the cut and letting go of what Ulquiorra was sure to be quite a nasty bruise.

"Such language," Ulquiorra scolded lightly, inspecting the damage.

"That's what you have to say? Are you fucking kidding me?" Apparently his passion was easily redirected when he was in such a state.

"Relax Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said exasperatedly.

"Don't you tell me to fucking relax! I'll fucking relax when you get me a fucking ice pack, some bandages, and something to stop internal bleeding because I bet that's coming next! Fuck why not rip off my limbs while your at-" Ulquiorra kissed him.

Grimmjow blinked in surprise but sunk into the kiss.

Ulquiorra pulled away slowly and smiled softly at Grimmjow. Grimmjow's eyes were alight with another type of passion.

"I think you have 'fuck' on the brain," Ulquiorra said flatly, laying back against Grimmjow as the bleeding had stopped.

"You offering?" Grimmjow asked with what Ulquiorra knew was a wild grin.

"Later when my spine is not so sore," he said, accenting his point with a slight whack to his head.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he shouted, covering his face again.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to hit there again."

"Fucking liar! I swear to god I should have just run that sword through your stupid little accident prone body when I had the bloody chance! Fuck, it's actually throbbing! I can't fucking believe-!"

Ulquiorra harshly stomped on his toe. "Did that help the pain in your cheek?"

Grimmjow glared at him, eye twitching. "How. The fuck. Could that. Possibly. Help!"

"Now you're thinking about the pain in your foot instead." Ulquiorra snuggled down into the covers, perfectly content.

"Are you fucking crazy!" he snarled.

"You don't have to yell, I'm right here."

"I'm going to _murder_ you!"

"Go to sleep Grimmjow.

"I'll burn crosses into your hands and dunk you in holy water and slice you right the hell up with Pantera and-"

"Perhaps I shall rip off one of your balls to redirect your pain."

Grimmjow was silent.

"I thought not."

"You wouldn't fucking dare! You like it when I fuck you too much." Grimmjow grinned in triumph, and then winced slightly when the action hurt his face.

"You do not need your balls to fuck me," Ulquiorra stated, eyes still closed and laying contentedly across Grimmjow.

Grimmjow's eye twitched to the point where he wondered if it would stick that way.

"I fucking hate you."

"I love you too, Grimmjow."

**XXX**

Neliel smiled at the flight attendant.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Neliel said, leaning back in the comfy first class chair. The Espada had many ways of making money, including some of the lesser demons running somewhat successful businesses or scams and they all paid a tax of sorts to the Espada. Call it an insurance fee. If you don't pay, your ensured to get beat down or more likely killed.

She'd escaped, run miles and miles before getting to the nearest airport in Berlin. Germany was lovely, but she was glad to be leaving.

_Even I cannot defy gravity,_ she thought as the plain lurched up higher into the air. _Humans certainly have advanced._

She was on her way to Colorado in the United States where she would run and run until she came to that lovely little spot she'd seen in the book weeks ago. _Las Noches, located near the small town of Hueco Mundo, Colorado. _She'd be safe there. Demons couldn't sense her on sacred ground and no sane demon would ever try to live on some.

She'd made sure to think sane, because lately she'd been questioning her own sanity.

_But this is what I need. Maybe if I can get away from him, I'll get better._ It wasn't a real plan and it had a large chance of not working anyways, but she would try. She had to try. _Anything to get away from him._

As she sat there, content, waiting to arrive in the United States and try to begin a whole new life, she had no idea that back on the ground, in that hated white manor, Szayel was sitting in a chair in front of a large screen displaying a map, sipping a distinct red liquid from his favourite mug, and watching a little green blip on the screen slowly moving across it.

**XXX**

Against all odds, Grimmjow had managed to go to sleep. It had been peaceful and deep, despite his various injuries.

_God damned fucking demon._

But _his _God damned fucking demon.

It had been no easy decision to stay his hand, and perhaps it was not the right one. Ulquiorra was, by all means, a monster that had killed too many to count, and Grimmjow didn't want to. He'd regret his final decision too much.

_Which should be an indicator to stab him through the heart right now._

But he couldn't.

Grimmjow had not spared Ulquiorra because he loved him. That would have been a selfish, stupid reason. He had never put his own feelings above the safety of other people and the vengeance of the victims. Had Grimmjow stayed his blade for that reason alone, he would be a fool, and he would most likely already be dead.

Ulquiorra had not abandoned him, the thought to do so had never crossed his mind. This demon would stay by his side until the bitter end, to the point he was willing to die by his hand alone. Happy, even. Grimmjow had never taken for granted something like that. It was why he had always been so loyal to Kisuke, as he had never left Grimmjow, even packing up and moving with him to Hueco Mundo. It was also why he secretly resented Yoruichi to some extent. She had left him, never given him a chance to follow her, just left without a word. His parents had died, leaving him alone as well. Always alone.

_It wasn't their fault._ But that wasn't the point. Ulquiorra would never leave him. He selfishly hung onto that with all his inner strength.

But it was not only that. Ulquiorra represented everything he wanted to believe in. He had always hoped for a way out of his miserable life. All it had been was death and pain and night after night wondering _will today be the day I die?_ But never knowing. He wanted out. He wanted to settle down, live peacefully, have a _choice!_ But that had never been an option. He was destined to die a seer, and most likely young.

Then Ulquiorra had come around and changed everything. He, a demon, had wanted to be different. He had wanted peace and forgiveness and redemption, the likes of which Grimmjow had never expected to see in a something so innately evil.

If Ulquiorra could hope for a new future, and if he could attain it, then there was a chance for Grimmjow. A chance to leave his past behind him and strive for a future of his own making.

If Ulquiorra died, then Grimmjow would never be free. He would be putting the final, most definite nail in his coffin.

He'd been able to sleep knowing if he had to make the choice again, he would do the same thing.

He was, however, rudely awakened by the phone ringing. He looked over at the clock also occupying a bit of space on the mantle and saw it was six thirty. PM.

_Slept the whole day away,_ he thought. But it wasn't really a big deal. He'd much rather sleep with Ulquiorra than do work anyways. He had no real intention of moving for a while yet.

The answering machine picked up after six rings and the usual,"It's Grimmjow. I'm either out of the house, ignoring you or asleep. Leave a message if I'm out of the house, stop calling if I'm ignoring you, and if I'm asleep and you woke me up for this, I will find you, glue the fucking phone to your mouth and mount your head on my wall." _Beep._

"Charming," Ulquiorra murmured sleepily.

"Grimmy!" came the ever trilling, agitating, over exuberant voice of one Urahara Kisuke. _Great._

"Why don't you pick up? Do you still not forgive me for not getting you a puppy for Christmas? You really must let that one go. It was six years ago."

"Never," muttered Grimmjow.

"Anyways, you really should change that answering machine. What if a little kid calls by mistake?"

"Deserves it if they call me," Grimmjow huffed, determined not to get up. Kisuke couldn't make him.

"Grimmy, pick up the phone right now," his voice had taken on a dark, foreboding air. "Or I will start telling stories from your childhood. Like your Batman phase, or when you ran naked downtown because your friend stole your clothes from your dressing room and you thought catching him and beating him up was a more pressing matter than covering up, or when I found you playing, quite roughly actually, with your-"

"The fuck you want Kisuke!" Grimmjow shouted over the phone. Ulquiorra was staring at him amusedly. "It had better be fucking good."

"Grimmy! I knew you were there!" Kisuke chirped cheekily.

"Go die," he said in the flattest tone he could manage.

"Aw, you wouldn't be saying that if you knew what I had to tell you," Kisuke laughed, and Grimmjow could just picture him waving that god forsaken fan.

"So why didn't you just say that right away on the machine?"

"Cuz you're so much fun to tease!"

Grimmjow pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm punching you next time I see you."

"Of course you are, of course you are!" he said excitedly. "Now, onto other matters."

Serious voice. _Shit._

"There's another demon in the area. Not as strong as Ulquiorra but strong for a demon. Female, I believe. Attributed with a ram. Fast. Deadly fast," he listed out in that same freaky serious tone.

"Alright," Grimmjow said, his voice grave as well. "I'll watch for it."

"Excellent! And how's our dear little Ulquiorra?" _Maybe he's bi-polar._

He hung up the phone. Kisuke had said what he'd needed too. He wouldn't call back.

He walked back over and hunkered back down with Ulquiorra.

"So," Ulquiorra started, tracing little circles on Grimmjow's bare chest. "Did you catch your friend?"

"You are never to mention that again," Grimmjow said in a deadly, no-way-to-get-around-this-shit-or-your-so-gonna-die voice.

"I doubt that," Ulquiorra smirked. "Neliel is coming, I hear."

"Neliel?" Grimmow asked, taking more interest.

"Neliel tu Oderschvank. Ranked Quinta among the espada. Well, I suppose Tresera now since Barragan is dead and I left," he explained.

Grimmjow was no stranger to the Espada. He'd heard of them many times. But he hadn't known…

"You're an Espada?" Grimmjow asked in disbelief.

"Former Espada, yes. I was Cuatro, or Tresera, considering the original Segunda, Barragan, is now dead. I forfeited my position when I left." He did not seem to find this to interesting.

"But you are the third most powerful demon alive right now?" Grimmjow tried to clarify, not quite able to wrap his head around it.

"Yes. Below me is Neliel and then Nnoitra Jiruga, originally ranked Sexta, now ranked Cuatro. Below him is Szayel Aporro Granz, Original Octava, current Quinta. Above me is Tia Hallibel, former Tresera current Segunda, and Coyote Stark, original Primera. The others have all perished."

_Confusing,_ Grimmjow decided.

"So why is this Neliel coming? Do you think she'll try to force you ack?"

"Unlikely. It is odd they would send one Espada, ranked lower than me for that matter, to bring me back. If the intent was to drag me back, they would at least have to send Hallibel, possibly Stark. Besides, they do not know where I am."

Grimmjow let the information sink in.

"So why is she coming?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I cannot communicate and plot evil deeds with demons all over the world," Ulquiorra said condescendingly. "My guess, and I usually do have good ones, is that Neliel is running away as well."

"She has a reason to ditch the Espada?" Grimmjow questioned.

"More of a reason than I had," he shrugged, putting a finger over Grimmjow's lips. "Enough of that. Sleep."

"It's 6:45 in the evening! I can't sleep twenty four hours straight!"

"You'll never know if you don't try."

"I'm hungry."

"Suck me off. I'm sure you will get something of a meal from that."

"I want something that tastes good."

"You should see if it tastes good."

"I need real food."

"Let's see how long you can sustain yourself on it."

"I want steak."

"Try my other white meat."

"I am not sucking you off!"

"Clearly, or I'd be in a much better mood."

"I'm not going to suck you off!"

"You will if you want food."

"Shut up!"

"If you want to gag me while you do it, I won't complain."

"That's not what I meant!"

"It's what I meant."

"Like fuck I care!"

"You should, you'll be doing it quite soon."

"Bite me."

"You first."

Grimmjow was in for a loooong night.

**XXX**

AN: Well, there you are. Cliffs are fun but I realy don't want to tease you all too much.

Ok, this was my first time ever writing a sex scene, and I really didn't have a clue how to go about it, but I hope I did alright.

You're all so sweet for reviewing and alerting and favoriting and everything else, so thank you thank you thank you

As for the ranks, here they are in case it was confusing. 1. Stark 2. Barragen (Deceased) 3. Hallibel 4. Ulquiorra (MIA) 5. Neliel (MIA) 6. Nnoitra 7. Zommari (Deceased) 8. Szayel 9. Aaroniero (Deceased) 10. Yammy (Deceased)

So yes, Neliel is actually stronger than Nnoitra. She's just not willing to hurt her mate, goes against her instincts. Nnoitra doesn't really have that problem. Keep that in mind, because it may be important later (HINT!)

Keep reading, keep reviewing, and I'll keep updating.

Until next time!


	8. The Crowbar

**Chapter 8**

"G-Grimmjow," panted Ulquiorra, his left arm thrown over his eyes in an attempt to make sense of the pleasure wreaking havoc on his body, but to no avail. "Ah!" Ulquiorra let out another one of those sounds he knew Grimmjow just loved.

So, needless to say, Ulquiorra had finally managed to get Grimmjow to suck him off. Not without promises of retaliation on Grimmjow's part, but that hardly concerned him at the present time. He was far too busy wondering if it was possible for his head to fall off from sheer pleasure.

Grimmjow sucked harshly, taking Ulquiorra's entire member into his mouth and hearing Ulquiorra gasp audibly. He trembled under his touch.

_Thank God I'm lying down or I would not have feeling in my legs for quite some time,_ Ulquiorra managed to fleetingly think before all thoughts were again dissolved when Grimmjow grazed his teeth on the underside of his cock. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,_

"Later, babe," Grimmjow murmured around him. _I must stop speaking out of turn._

"I like it," Grimmjow said, smirking and swallowing around him, which of course had Ulquiorra throwing his head back and finally releasing in Grimmjow's mouth. He lay on the bed, panting harder than before and desperately trying to focus his eyes, to no avail. His vision blurred and then shook. He closed his eyes to stop from becoming to dizzy.

"You can't think in your head when you're like that, can you," Grimmjow said with a self-satisfied grin, moving to lie back next to Ulquiorra. He would have glared if he could really see right then.

"Do not start with me," Ulquiorra panted out. He finally opened his eyes to a stable world and looked over at Grimmjow. "Why is your hair so mussed?" He could not recall even touching Grimmjow's head.

Grimmjow looked at him flatly. "Because your tail had a pretty good grip on it the whole fucking time."

Ulquiorra blinked and looked down to his tail, waving slowly across the bed in a manner befitting a pleased dog, clutching strands of sky blue hair in a death grip. He resented the resemblance to a dog and put some effort into stopping it.

"You were not complaining," Ulquiorra shrugged. He flicked a stray strand of his hair out of his face. He supposed it would be sweaty and sticking to his forehead were he human, but demons did not sweat.

"It'd be pretty useless anyways. You were moaning so loud ya couldn't a heard me anyhow," he said with a wider grin. Ulquiorra had a strange mental picture of Grimmjow's grin going right off his face. Comical, really, but also somewhat disturbing.

_I'm quite scatterbrained as of late._

As Grimmjow made no comment to his thought he assumed he was now in control of his inner monologue again.

"Your tongue has a strange texture to it. Quite rough," he commented.

"Yea, dunno why though." He shrugged wrapped an arm under Ulquiorra to pull him closer. Ulquiorra let him with no objections. The closer the better.

"Hey, Ulqui," Grimmjow called him back out of his mind. Ulquiorra responded with a soft humming noise to acknowledge him. "How long 'til that other demon gets here? That Nenely, er, Neelelil, um…"

"Neliel," Ulquiorra supplied. "She's quite fast, faster than me perhaps, so not too long. Depending on terrain and her determination, I'd say two to five days if this is her destination."

Grimmjow nodded. Ulquiorra studied his face and found hints of worry. He sighed tiredly.

"There is no use agonizing over it right now," Ulquiorra said, flicking his ear. Grimmjow winced and Ulquiorra tried to stifle a chuckle. _Oops, left side._

"Come on, we've got shit to do." He threw the covers off of himself and got up, stretching and giving Ulquiorra a much appreciated view of his entire backside. Ulquiorra felt his forked tongue slither out and trace his lips suggestively. _Yum._

"Of course," Ulquiorra said, following suit.

Grimmjow had decided to forgo a shirt and wore a pair of ripped jeans. And that was it. No shirt, socks, underwear…

Ulquiorra stared at Grimmjow for a good minute and a half before finally dressing himself, putting on his own jeans and decided to mimic Grimmjow. No shirt, no socks, no underwear.

_Let the games begin._

Grimmjow walked ahead of Ulquiorra and headed out of the house to get a bit of air. When he walked out, he looked back at Ulquiorra, still in the porch, and the demon almost fainted at the sheer sight.

Grimmjow was framed by the morning light, giving the allusion of a halo around his head, making the blue seem all the more contrasting and sensual. His bronzed skin seemed to glow with an ethereal light and his strong, defined build seemed even more pronounced. And his _eyes_. Ulquiorra shivered. His eyes held a light all their own, staring at him in an intense, passionate way that made him want to drop to his knees and offer his soul. _Like the devil and an angel. Seductive and deadly, strong and beautiful._ He could feel his knees shaking, ready to buckle at a moment's hesitation.

_Far too entirely lovely for me._

Ulquiorra couldn't move. He vaguely recalled later that he may not have even tried. Vaguely because everything was vague and unimportant in that moment. Only he could garner attention, only he existed in all.

Ulquiorra lifted one of his claws to eye level, looking intently at it before back at Grimmjow. The difference was immeasurable. Grimmjow had been gifted by God, and he was damned by Him. It aggravated him-no. It infuriated him. Why should he suffer? Why must he be the one to eternally roam soulless in his pointless existence?

His claw clenched into a fist and it began to shake slightly. Unable to hold in his rage, he thrust his fist into the nearest window, never moving another part of his body, his face unchanging. The sound made from the glass was ear splitting. Pieces flew in every direction away from his fist.

But it was worse still. The light reflected off the shards and danced across Grimmjow's skin, allowing his skin to shine brighter. Ulquiorra felt as though he were in the presence of an angel who, with all his beauty, could only bring sorrow to he who could never attain him.

He was no devil, could never be demonic. He was too good, too pure. His very presence washed over Ulquiorra like a soothing breath of wind, cleansing him but torturing him, for he could only ever try to remain in his mystical air, and could never have any peace of his own. _Like a leech, clinging to another life to take as much as it can. It can only ever take, it can never give._

Grimmjow was staring at him in such a strange light. As though to say he understood. His eyes travelled to Ulquiorra's hand.

"You don't really seem the type to have a flare for the dramatic," Grimmjow commented lightly. Ulquiorra always wondered how Grimmjow's words could seem so light-hearted and yet carry so much weight. Even such a simple statement had meanings hidden deep within, and while Ulquiorra could realise this, he could not discern the meanings and it frustrated him. "Suppose we'll need to fix that now," he sighed, probably meaning the window. However, something in his eyes had Ulquiorra wondering how many meanings that one sentence held. Fix what? The window? His hand?

_My heart?_

But he just didn't know.

"Is there anyone in town that can do such a thing?" Ulquiorra inquired. He had to put these thoughts out of his head lest he lose his mind for good.

"I can. But I need the right materials. Kisuke has 'em."

Ulquiorra thought back to the hardware store. "I was unaware he sold things such as that." Grimmjow smirked a bit and Ulquiorra knew that, for the moment, the tortured emotions and questions unanswered behind his mutilation of the window had been pushed back temporarily. They would move onto lighter topics and more pleasant thoughts until it would inevitable come up again, and it would. Perhaps it would be remembered when Ulquiorra once again enacted his anger in such a way or when Grimmjow had another moment when he looked into Ulquiorra and saw all he had to offer.

No, it was not over. But Ulquiorra wanted to keep it at bay for as long as possible. He was not ready to deal with it yet, the ever-present emptiness that had only begun to dissipate. And the sorrow replacing it in those brief moments of clarity when he would, inevitably, realise that Grimmjow and him may never truly have a chance.

_Can I ever be redeemed?_

"He's sorta like the guy everyone goes to of they need somethin' ya can't get nowhere else," Grimmjow shrugged. He lost his look of nonchalance when his eyes again landed on Ulquiorra's hand.

_He is as tortured by this as I am._ The realization was not terribly out of place, he had already known it. It was just a reinstatement, but it was so clear Ulquiorra could almost feel it in his heart.

_If I still have one._

"Why do we tiptoe around each other like this?" Ulquiorra voiced, almost without meaning to. It was a question that had to be asked, but one he was reluctant to hear the answer for.

Grimmjow seemed to be at a loss for words as he stared hard into Ulquiorra's eyes.

"We never really say what is troubling us, or even on our minds. Can we not be honest?"

Grimmjow's gaze hardened to the point Ulquiorra thought they truly resembled sapphires, blue and beautiful and most definitely a stone.

"Because I'll regret my decision to let you live," Grimmjow stated coldly. "I regret it, of course, but never so much as I do when we're being honest." He scowled and looked away, his hands now balled into fists. "What else you could be honest with me about, I sometimes wonder. The long, nightmarish lives of so many victims that you've inexplicably caused. All the blood on your hands; I could probably swim in a pool of it!" His breathing was heavy again and the air was so still Ulquiorra wondered if the world had stopped, in that moment, just for the two of them. Why this moment, though? Was it any more important than the night they'd spent together? Than when Grimmjow had tried to kill him? Why would the world be still now?

"But I don't want to think about it, because if I do, I'll go crazy circling it around and around in my head. Just circling and circling until I come back to the same end, which is to kill you, but I pass by it again, just to circle back later. But I stall because I don't want to kill you! I don't want to admit that there's no hope! I can't, not yet." Grimmjow had moved to stand directly before Ulquiorra and his hands cupped his pale cheeks. "I can't," he said, so much softer. "I love you, and even if that's selfish, I'll hold onto that until I can't anymore. I will hold onto that with every last fibre in my body, with everything I am, I will hold onto that I love you, that I can be with you, that I can save you." Grimmjow kissed his forehead and Ulquiorra closed his eyes in silent, agonizing, sorrowful bliss. "Until my life ends, I'll hold on. And if my life should end, I will kill you. Because my life will end when there is no more hope for us." Grimmjow continued in that beautiful, soft voice.

_I hope, I pray, I love._ Ulquiorra raised his hand, the one he'd used to shatter the window, and rid Grimmjow's angelic face of that one stray tear. _Perhaps I am not so demonic, either._

**XXX**

Neliel ran at a breakneck pace through the wide sloping hills, the new grass blowing, fresh from winter's frost and green as her hair. The sky above was blue as she didn't know what and interims of brown and red flew by on the ground as she pounded her hoofs further and further, determined to get to her destination.

She was enjoying herself with all the beauty of nature around her. And not one single damn white thing in sight but fir the clouds and they could be described as greys and pleasant whites, not the blank, dull ones she'd become used to.

She was free.

_Free._

She slowed to a stop, standing in the middle of nowhere with no real plan. She closed her eyes and felt the breeze drift over her skin, her hair dancing wildly in the wind. She hadn't been so happy in a long time. Her coloured self had resurfaced; the white had no more bearing on her.

_Nnoitra…_ Neliel's heart ached at the thought of him. She hated to admit it, but she was longing for him desperately. To be so far away from him was taking its toll on her. She grimaced. She should not have missed the mental and physical abuse, and she did not. She missed _him._ Nnoitra, the man she'd fallen in love with so deeply before.

_"Nelly!" The voice drifted across the yard easily. She sighed. She'd never get him to stop using that ridiculous name. She would admit though, she didn't mind it coming from him._

_"I'm over here, Nnoitra!" she called back, her face falling into a fitting smile. He always had this effect on her. He came into view, coming over the hill and smiling at her as she sat, playing idly with the wild flowers._

_"Been lookin' everywhere for ya, babe," he said, plopping down next to her. "What cha doin?"_

_"I like these flowers. I thought I'd pick some and liven up the dreary manor," she explained, placing a bright red flower in her ever growing bouquet. "White gets tiresome."_

_"Yea, it can drive a person crazy," Nnoitra chuckled, lying back on the grass and closing his eyes, letting the moonlight wash over him. Demons far preferred the night, finding it more soothing. Neliel frowned slightly when she looked upon Nnoitra to see the moon had bleached him out quite drastically. She had an eerie feeling, as though that dead colour would envelop him and bleach him forever of what defined him from the white world. Like a terrible premonition of an impending disaster that would change Nnoitra into the illuminated figure before her painted so starkly in white._

_She quickly turned away. No need to think such nonsensical things._

_Nnoitra and her had mated not a week ago, and she was surprised how comfortable she felt about the whole ordeal. She'd have expected it to take some adjusting time, but she needed none. She fell into the role of mate perfectly with Nnoitra there for her every step of the way. He was so good to her, always taking care of her. Even now, he'd come looking for her when he'd felt her inner turmoil. She adored the mate bond with him, as it solidified that special unique love between them and allowed them access to the others emotions and love. _

_But her turmoil was not something he could really help her with. Not he nor anyone could truly alleviate the problem._

"_Nnoitra," she said, her voice troubled. Nnoitra cracked an eye open to stare at her inquisitively. "You don't think it will, do you?" she asked, twirling the red flower around in one hand and a white in the other. "Drive us crazy, I mean. We're always on the brink of losing our sanity, we fight all the 's easier for some, I suppose, but what if one of us loses?"_

"_Aw babe, you're thinking too much," he laughed. "We all have our little inner battles, but we've come through them pretty well, doncha think? Besides, we won't lose as long as we're happy and together. That crazy shit can't take us when we got nothin' to go crazy over," he said, taking her hand in his and pressing it softly to his lips. Neliel blushed and smiled at him. He was so good at calming her down._

"_Sometimes I worry though. We see Demons Descend every day. What's to keep us from following?" Descending was the term demons had given to losing their sanity. Every demon had an element of madness or dementedness to them, and they had to fight to keep control of it. Sometimes a demon could not control the insanity inside of them and Descended, or gave in to the raging madness._

"_We've got each other," Nnoitra said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We'll keep each other from Descending, I know it." He was looking intently into her eyes now. "I'll protect you, Nelly, and you keep my sanity safe too, k?" He grinned and sat up, nuzzling his head into her neck, taking care not to scratch her with his horns. _

_Neliel smiled sweetly and stroked his hair. "Always, love." She kissed the top of his head and lay back down, neither letting go until morning, their fears abated and love sated for the night._

"I wonder if I failed him, if it's my fault," she said aloud, not really seeing the terrain any longer. She pulled herself back from her thoughts, the scene before her eyes shifting from a grassy hill drowned in moonlight to the sunlit afternoon on the old dirt road through the plain. "Regardless, it is over now. He has Descended." Even admitting that was tremendously difficult. Nnoitra had Descended. She had to shake off her stupor and start running again. She'd get away from him, she had to, or be pulled into Descending herself.

She growled out loud and lowered her head, glaring at the ground. How dare he try to make her Descend!

Her sneer began to change to a sinister smile. She let a few chuckles fall from her lips and her body started to tremble delightfully.

"Die Nnoitra, die die die!" She laughed harder. "Die die die die die die die die-" She cut herself off and snapped her head up.

_What is happening to me?_

Perhaps it was too late for her. Perhaps she was already heading down the road to Descending.

"No!" she cried, slamming her head against a nearby tree. "Not yet, I'm not done yet," she growled lowly.

"Aren't you?"

Neliel whipped her head around and almost screamed. But she couldn't, she was too terrified.

"N-Nnoitra?" she asked hoarsely. "How did you-"

"I always know, Neliel," he said darkly with a grin on his face. A demented grin. "And I know you don't have too long now," he chuckled and stood right before her, leaning and leering over her menacingly.

Neliel stared wide-eyed and horrified at the man before her. "You can't be here," she said, shaking her head back and forth in a physical denial of the sight before her. Nnoitra could _not_ have found her. She left no clue, nothing behind to indicate anything.

His presence proved her wrong though. He was big and frightening and so very there that she could not possibly deny it. His eyes were slits and gleaming, like a hunter ready for the kill. He was ready to catch and eat, and Neliel had no chance.

"It doesn't matter," he laughed. "If I'm here or I'm not, you can't escape me."

Neliel breathed harshly out and growled in his face.

"You're not here!" she cried half in anger, half in elation. "You're just in my head."

So he hadn't found her after all! She was spared this one moment to continue on. Then again, why was she envisioning him? Did she miss him that much?

"True, true," he conceded-_if I can even say he-_ and took a few steps backwards. "But that makes it all the worse."

Neliel felt her legs buckle from beneath her. She had no words, because he was _right!_ She was seeing him now, could feel his presence in her mind, the embodiment of what she knew of insanity and the figurehead for it in her head. She associated descending with him, and he stood before her, a figment produced by her mind.

"Am I Descending?" she whispered, a shivering mess on the ground.

She felt Nnoitra walk closer.

_No, not walk, he's not real so he can't really do anything._

But it was hard to get a grasp on that when he seemed so real.

"It's only the beginning, Nelly." She looked up to stare into his mocking eyes, his hand lowering slowly towards the top of her head. "It gets so much _better!_"

"NO!" she cried and swatted his hand away, or tried to at least. She felt nothing when her hand should have touched his, and he was gone as though nothing had occurred at all.

But… It hadn't.

She let her head fall back against the tree, closing her eyes and letting nature settle her.

_I'm Descending._ She sighed and opened her eyes, because nothing in the real world was as bad as what was happening on the inside. She couldn't handle looking inward right then.

"How long, I wonder…" she mused, raising her hand and letting it block the sun from her eyes, shifting her fingers to let the light trace patterns over her face, making the world a swirl of bright spots and streaks. It made her a bit dizzy.

"No one knows, babe." Neliel frowned and turned her head away from where the voice was supposedly coming from.

"Go away, Nnoitra," she said, closing her eyes again. It didn't matter though, the voice just kept on talking and she saw him on the backs of her eyelids instead.

"I'm just here to ease the transition," he said, and when she looked at him again, he was leaning relaxed back on the tree.

"How could you ease anything?" she asked sceptically, deigning it pointless to try and avoid something that was in her head anyways. "I'd say I made a bad choice."

"Your call Nelly," he said with a grin. "Don't want me, get rid of me."

_I can't,_ she thought irately. She didn't know why, but she couldn't.

"Yea, I know," Nnoitra said in a teasing voice. "Probably means you're pretty far gone. You can't even control your own mind."

She frowned again and looked down at her legs, unnatural in that they were demonic. _Everything about us is unnatural._

"I dunno, insanity is pretty natural, and we fall into that pretty easy." Neliel rolled her eyes. An answer she would expect from him, and that was probably why he said it. He was only her minds' projection.

An idea lodged itself in her mind. _My mind's projection, I wonder…_

She got up and started walking. She was faster than Nnoitra in reality, so she would just outrun him.

"This ain't something you can run away from, Nelly. It'll follow you and follow you until it swallows you whole," he said, following closely behind her.

"But you could never catch me," she said with a triumphant gleam. "You never will, and if I can't stop Descending, at least I can escape you!" And she took off. True to her hypothesis, the illusion disappeared, left far behind. Apparently, her illusions followed the conventions of her mind and what she believed to be true or what she knew. So, the illusion of Nnoitra would never catch up to her. When she stopped, he'd probably show up again, but for now, just for now, she could run. Run and run and run and, later, Descend.

**XXX**

"So, did he catch his friend?"

Grimmjow gave Ulquiorra the most evil glare he'd ever seen, and Ulquiorra had seen demons who wished for nothing more than his utter painful demise.

"Oh, Ulqui! You heard that too huh," Urahara said with a wild grin. Grimmjow's eyes twitched and Ulquiorra had to hold back a mirthless chortle.

They'd ended up at Urahara Kisuke's shop again, getting supplies to fix the window. Grimmjow had been right. Ulquiorra hadn't noticed before, but Urahara's place had everything, from hardware to books to a dangerously large candy stock.

The more time Ulquiorra spent around the man, the more he wondered if he himself was so strange.

But enough of his distracted musings.

Ulquiorra had been curious about Grimmjow's past, the not-so tragic aspects of it (though the tragic bits were just as interesting to listen to, just more heart-wrenching). Who better to ask than his father-figure of however many years?

He decidedly ignored Grimmjow's disturbing twitching eye and snarl growing more ferocious by the second.

"Yes, it was quite entertaining," he said, staring blankly at Urahara. He certainly didn't look entertained, but appearances were deceiving.

Ulquiorra's eyes darted towards Grimmjow at that thought. _Quite deceiving indeed._

"Well, as a matter of fact, he did! Stark naked in the middle of the food court! Quite an oddity, seeing a naked man tackle another man and start screaming 'this is what you fucking deserve, you little cock-sucker! Take it like a man!' Impossibly entertaining. Would you like to see pictures?"

"Shut the fuck up, Kisuke!" Grimmjow shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Now now, Grimmy. I have other customers who probably don't appreciate that."

"Why the fuck should I care?" he growled and grabbed the front of Urahara's shirt, pulling his torso over the counter and snarling ferociously in his face.

"Forgot to brush this morning, I see," Urahara noted, which of course made Grimmjow twice as angry.

"You have pictures?" Ulquiorra piped up.

Grimmjow froze, turning to Ulquiorra in a deadly calm sort of way.

"I'll show them to you after I burn your eyes out with crosses," Grimmjow deadpanned and returned his attention to Kisuke. Still deadly calm. Possibly the most frightening he'd ever seen Grimmjow.

"I'm gonna bash your fucking skull in, so just shut up and take it in silence. Your voice pisses me off." He said, letting go of Urahara and picking a handily placed crowbar from the shelf opposite the counter. _What a terrible place to put such an item._

Grimmjow twirled it in his hand a few times before walking, still calmly, towards Urahara again.

"Oh, come on Grimmy! We were just havin' a bit of fun, right Ulquiorra?"

Ulquiorra stared blankly at him. He wasn't stupid enough to divert Grimmjow's attention.

"Kisuke," Grimmjow said, an eerie smile on his face. "Hold still."

And, to Ulquiorra's slight surprise, he swung. And not just a 'play swing that one can easily dodge because they don't really want to hurt the person' swing. A full on 'no escape in sight so you'll be pushing daisies in a few minutes, bitch' swing.

To Urahara's credit, he did dodge, and quite expertly. He even held his hat on with the finesse of a professional, as though he's been doing it all his life.

_Then again, he is a sensor._

"Can't we talk this out?" Urahara asked, a strangely happy smile on his face.

"I told ya, yer voice annoys me so I don' wanna hear it." He swung again, breaking various objects in the way as Urahara skilfully dodged again.

"Why are you always so unreasonable?" he pouted, waving his fan in front of him.

_Why was he still holding that thing? He is being attacked, isn't he?_

"I learned from the best. Now hold _still,_" he said, taking another full on swing and bashing the crowbar against the wall, lodging it firmly in the new hole.

"Aw Grimmy, I just painted!" he complained, crossing his arms childishly.

"I bet red would look real nice. Let's see," he said with a grin and pulled the weapon from the wall, taking a running lunge at Urahara.

It just continued on and on, and Ulquiorra just watched bemusedly.

_I thought the Espada under one roof was a disaster,_ he thought as Grimmjow smashed a shelf and Urahara whined about how much he was costing him.

He let it go on for a good fifteen minutes before Grimmjow ran past him, trying to strike again. Ulquiorra caught the crowbar in his hand, bringing everything to an abrupt halt. Ulquiorra stared at Grimmjow blankly.

"Are you quite through?" he asked, not really caring before he ripped the weapon from Grimmjow's hands and flung it across the store with ease.

"Ulqui! Thank you, you sweet little demon, you! Grimmy is so evil!" Urahara chirped cheerfully from his crouched position behind the counter, the top half of his face visible over it.

"You are all trash," Ulquiorra said flatly, picking up the equipment and walking briskly out of the store. Grimmjow sighed and turned to give one last glare in Urahara's direction before following Ulquiorra out.

"Such an interesting couple," Urahara mused, dusting off his hat. He giggled. "Grimmy's whipped."

Grimmjow stalked up to Ulquiorra and glared at him half-heartedly. "You are such a pain in the ass."

"I was not the one trying to dismember a man in front of various witnesses," Ulquiorra reminded him, staring straight ahead.

"So what? He's an even bigger pain in my ass! Besides, I don't get to fuck him to make up for it all," he leered, grinning madly.

"Continue as you have been and you will not get to fuck me either. I grow tired of your trivialities." Ulquiorra sped up a bit, leaving Grimmjow behind.

"Psh! You could never stay away from me! I can have you anytime, anywhere. Remember it," he said cockily, walking easily behind him.

"I doubt that," Ulquiorra said, glancing back to Grimmjow once before continuing on.

So he didn't see Grimmjow's evil, conniving smile.

Grimmjow caught Ulquiorra's elbow and pulled him around, wrapping his other arm around his back and leaning his head slightly over Ulquiorra's. His eyes were soft and half-lidded, a small smile on his face. "Ulquiorra," he breathed, lowering his head, bringing his lips closer and closer to Ulquiorra's.

Ulquiorra was caught in a trance and couldn't move.

For like, a second.

"Trash," he said, knocking Grimmjow fairly hard in the head. _Left side._

"Fuck! Fucking hell Ulquiorra! What the fuck!"

"Do not think me so easy, Grimmjow."

"I am going to bury you alive on holy ground and exorcize your ass into a world of pain and take your entrails and feed them to weak demons before I kill them and use their bones to make a cage for you that I'll throw in a lake of holy water after resurrecting you and-" Ulquiorra kissed him passionately, even rubbing his knee against Grimmjow's already hard cock. Grimmjow moaned lustfully and tried groped Ulquiorra wherever he could get his hands.

"You are always so passionate in what you do when you are horny," Ulquiorra stated, pulling away. "Quite creative too."

"God you piss me off," Grimmjow muttered.

"It is a sin to use the Lord's name in vain," Ulquiorra chided blankly.

"I do not wanna hear religious moral talk from _you,_" Grimmjow growled.

"Why? Would I not know religion? Have I not experienced enough of it to understand it?"

Grimmjow blinked. "You sound bitter about it," he noted.

By then, they were on the dirt road leading to the church. Of course they could have taken the car, but it was only noon and, though they wouldn't get back until roughly three, they figured the window wouldn't take too long and it was just too nice a day to pass up.

"Burn in Hell for a while and see how you like it, then," Ulquiorra stated, sending Grimmjow a particularly menacing glare.

Grimmjow backed off a bit, not wanting him to lash out. There was no window around to quell his anger and it may very well be his skull shattered on the ground this time.

"Guess I never thought about it," Grimmjow shrugged. "It's pretty bad, huh."

Ulquiorra stared at Grimmjow like he had damn well lost his mind.

"It is the epitome of 'bad.' It is purgatory. Indescribable, unimaginable."

He said no more and they did not talk for an hour.

**XXX**

An hour is a very long time and it certainly stretched. Grimmjow tried to conjure some sort of topic in his head, but nothing came to him. What could one say, after all, prior to being told that their lover had endured the tortures of Hell for God knows how long.

_God knows…_ He didn't like that, didn't like that God knew how long and had done nothing.

_But I did nothing._ True, he hadn't know Ulquiorra then, but he most likely wouldn't have lifted a finger to help him even if he could have. Ulquiorra was, after all, a demon. And if he was in Hell, he probably deserved to be there.

_And here I am, in love with him, protecting him, forgiving him._ Grimmjow sighed aloud.

He was thinking in circles again. There would always be a moral issue with their relationship, no doubt. But he would accept Ulquiorra, because he no longer wanted to be the demon that had been sent to Hell, and he no longer was. He was Ulquiorra, Grimmjow's lover and seeking redemption. It was enough. Enough for Grimmjow to accept everything that came with him.

"Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow finally said. Ulquiorra glanced at him wearily. No doubt he had been reminiscing about his time burning where Grimmjow would, hopefully, only ever imagine.

"What?" he said, and Grimmjow sensed the venom behind the bored voice.

"I love you," he said, looking at his lover sadly. It hurt Grimmjow to know that Ulquiorra had gone through so much. It certainly put demons in perspective for him. Even he probably wouldn't be able to handle the strain of Hell forever and would end up a demon himself.

_I can't think that, I can't pity them,_ Grimmjow snapped at himself. _Or I won't kill them._

He looked over at Ulquiorra. _It's already happening, though._

"Grimmjow…" Ulquiorra seemed to be at a loss for words. Grimmjow just smiled and took his hand, kissing the palm gently.

"I'll protect you from that now," he continued, staring sincerely into the demon's green, green eyes, no longer quite so dead. "You'll get your redemption somehow."

Ulquiorra leaned his head on Grimmjow's shoulder.

"I love you too, Grimmjow," he whispered against his skin, sending slight shivers down Grimmjow's spine. "I will be redeemed, and we can finally be together."

Grimmjow stroked his hair. "We are together. Nothing will ever change that. I swear this to you," he vowed, pulling Ulquiorra's face to look him dead in the eye. "I will be with you until the day we are ripped apart from each other."

Ulquiorra threw himself into Grimmjow's arms, the two not talking. There were no words needed. Love did not have to be expressed in words. It only had to be expressed.

**XXX**

**AN:** Hello all! I'm so sorry it took me a while to update. Been really really busy. I'll try to update more but I have lots of homework and finals are coming up and GAH! You know.

So, this was almost something of a setup chapter. Ulquiorra and Grimmjow are both feeling the strain of their choices and coming to both regret and accept them. Neliel is absolutely and literally starting to lose her mind, so I'm setting up something for that.

Ok, Neliel's little flashback. I wanted to create some contrast to her relationship now but also convey a sense that there was something wrong right from the beginning, even if she chose not to recognize it. Though it doesn't go too in depth into their relationship, I don't think any one flashback could. I could write a whole story on Neliel and Nnoitra's backstory and I doubt you wanted one flashback that long. So, this happened.

Because of all the seriousness in previous chapters, I wanted something a bit more lighthearted for Grimmjow and Ulquiorra. I had to keep elements of drama going but I also wanted to get across that, even with all this uncertainty following them, they still manage to have a few good times and that their relationship isn't all bad and suffering and indecision.

Likewise, though, I wanted to show that even if they're having a good time or being more silly, these issues are still swirling in the back of their minds.

I'm also trying to develop the characters more, but remember that this is actually my first story ever so I don't really know if I am. I'm happy to take pointers or critisism, just be nice or I may get discouraged, start questioning the whole thing, etc. But if you have a suggestion or something isn't sitting right with you, let me know! I'll try to cater to your needs :)

As always, Read and review! You know I love to hear it all. See you next time!


	9. Fighting and Fucking

**Chapter 9**

Grimmjow peppered the chicken burgers on the grill outside, flipping one to make sure it didn't burn. Not the fanciest meal but he didn't remember signing up for any fucking cooking school.

But it didn't really matter, Ulquiorra never complained anyways.

_Speak of the devil,_ Grimmjow thought as Ulquiorra came up behind him.

"You really ought to cut the grass. I believe there are things living in it that I have never encountered before," Ulquiorra suggested, though his heart wasn't really in it. He'd been trying to get Grimmjow to cut the grass for a solid three weeks and had yet to produce any results.

"What are you, my wife? Lay off," Grimmjow retorted, his heart not really in it either. It was like going through the motions of another day. Surprisingly, though, it never really got boring. He liked spending his days with Ulquiorra, even if they did fall into a bit of a pattern sometimes. Then again, Ulquiorra always managed to keep things interesting.

"You would enjoy that, I'm sure," Ulquiorra stated and started to walk off. Grimmjow blushed before whirling on Ulquiorra.

"I do not want you to be my wife!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Good. Then I will top tonight." Ulquiorra didn't even turn around. His voice even remained that stupid monotone that Grimmjow always enjoyed pounding to death, literally, in bed.

"Fat chance, Shiffler!" he roared. They really argued more than talked, but Grimmjow almost preferred it. He needed someone who could take his shit and give it right back, even if he wasn't willing to admit it to himself.

"They're burning," Ulquiorra said with a flicker of a glance back at his… well they could define whatever they were later.

"Huh?" Grimmjow said dumbly, before remembering that, oh yea, he'd been cooking. "Damn it!" He quickly flipped them before letting out a breath of relief. "Hey wait a minute I ain't done with you-" Ulquiorra had disappeared. "Yet," he finished irately.

This arrangement wasn't ideal. Ulquiorra was still burning and none too lightly. Grimmjow would never admit to Ulquiorra how much it pained his heart to see the man he loved in constant pain, whether he chose to show it or not. He suspected Ulquiorra was bottling a lot of his pain and Grimmjow couldn't do a damn thing about it.

He let himself drift in his own loathing of his life then, because he sometimes got tired of pretending that everything was okay.

Nothing was okay.

At times like this, Grimmjow thought about Yoruichi, how she had always helped him in times like this, in his indecision and uncertainty. She had been there for him, his rock in the storm of his life. The rock that waves of time and experience beat against but could never break. And Grimmjow had clung to that rock like he was drowning and burning and dying over and over.

But she was gone, left without a word. It tortured him sometimes.

_She didn't know._ He always reminded himself. _She was only trying to protect me, and she didn't anticipate the after effects._ His eyes narrowed. _Maybe she thought they were worth it to protect me from the life I would have had to live with her._ He absently flipped another burger. _But I didn't care, I still don't. I would have gone with her._

"Stop brooding. It is growing tedious." Grimmjow turned his head and saw Ulquiorra with a jug of punch in his hand. Red punch. They were trying to wean him off of human blood. It helped that the colour was red, sometimes tricking Ulquiorra's mind in that it sort of looked like blood.

"I wasn't," Grimmjow muttered, putting the last of the spices on, because he liked his food spicy, god damn it, and putting them on a plate.

A small patio set was set up in the back of the house, overlooking not much of a view. Just plains and trees. The backyard itself was in no way different from the front. Just more of the grounds. And just as unmowed.

Grimmjow tried to suppress a smirk. Ulquiorra would start bitching again if he made any mention of it so he had to apply some restraint.

"Self-pitying, then," Ulquiorra corrected, politely removing one of the burgers from the plate and setting it in the bun on his.

"I ain't no wuss. I don't pity myself," Grimmjow snarled, stabbing one of the burgers with his fork and dropping it unceremoniously on his plate.

"You're utter lack of table manners never fails to astound me. You would think I was less of an animal compared to you," he said haughtily, or as close to haughty as he could get. With Ulquiorra it was always fact and reasoning, and he was always, according to himself, right. Pissed Grimmjow off more than a bit.

"You're a demon! You ain't supposed to be polite," Grimmjow snapped, taking a large bite. They were good, but that was no surprise. Grimmjow had always had a thing for grilling. _Maybe it's a guy thing._

"And yet, I am. What does that say about you?" Ulquiorra said, seeming to be focussing hard on the burger.

"That I'm more of a human and a demon than you," Grimmjow said with a roll of his eyes. "Guess I'm just that much better than you in general," he smirked, chugging down his entire glass of punch and slamming it so hard down on the table that he was slightly surprised nothing broke. "Punch tastes a little funny," he murmured, scratching the back of his head and staring intently at the punch bottle.

"Perhaps it was expired or something. Regardless, I do not think it will kill you," Ulquiorra said, taking a small bit and his eyes, weirdly enough, lit up a bit.

"Like it? Knew ya would. Chicken burgers are just a naturally good thing," he said with a huge grin, slamming back another drink. His vision swam a bit. _The fuck?_

"They do not seem so natural, packed with preservatives and chemicals and such," Ulquiorra pointed out, glancing at Grimmjow with what he could only discern as amusement.

"Yer such a downer," Grimmjow mumbled, taking another drink. He was starting to feel warm. "The fuck is in this shtuff- er, stuff. Wha'ever." The world swam slightly before him.

"There was a bottle of clear liquid that seemed interesting. I used that." Grimmjow thought back to what was in his pantry, but it was getting a bit fuzzy.

"Fuck," he muttered, suddenly realising what went wrong. "Tequilla," he chuckled. He briefly wondered if Ulquiorra had meant to use it or not. "Figures." Grimmjow grabbed the jug, giving up. No turning back now. "How much did ya use 'nyways?"

"All of it," Ulquiorra replied.

"Fantastic," he said, taking another healthy swig. "Here," he said, pushing it towards Ulquiorra.

"I'd rather not," he said, looking at him with a blank stare.

"Dun matter. Drink it," he said, getting up, a bit wobbly. He walked over to Ulquiorra, tripping once in a while. "Open up, baby," he muttered. Ulquiorra sighed but did as he was told. Grimmjow grinned and poured some down his throat. He alternated between him and his lover until it was all gone. "I'ma go get summore," he slurred.

"Unnecessesary," Ulquiorra mumbled, seeming unaware of his slight slur.

Grimmjow cackled loudly and obnoxiously. "Na, ya gotsta have summore!" He tripped his way back into the house and returned with a 24 pack of beer. "We're gunna have some fun tanight!" he laughed, throwing one, a bit off, to Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra still managed to catch it.

Grimmjow raised his bottle in a toast. "To us," he said, a bit more seriously.

Ulquiorra blinked before clinking his bottle to Grimmjow's, unable to ignore a toast like that. "Yes, to us."

**XXX**

One hour and 24 beers later, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow were a mess of laughter and slurs, unable to really hold a conversation. Ulquiorra had never indulged in liquor, as it seemed a pointless waste of time. A trashy human pastime that was as stupid as it was harmful. He had always wondered why humans willingly ruined their livers and brains for such an idiotic experience that made them act strange and sloppy and brainless.

But hey, he knew now. It was actually quite fun and he felt that he could talk about anything with Grimmjow. And in reality, they had been.

"Ya know," Grimmjow said, his face flushed and grinning stupidly. "I like it when ya smile. Your eyes get all sparkly an' shit," he said, pointing an accusing finger in Ulquiorra's general direction, though it was a bit off to the right. "Luv yer eyes, all big 'n green. Fuggin sexy," he slurred, laughing.

Ulquiorra laughed to, his head resting on his hand propped up on the table. "Yer eyes are so beutiful," Ulquiorra countered. "Colour o' sex, if sex was a colour," he chuckled. "Yer like sex, sexy and deadly and beeutiful and rough and rugged and sexy and good and angelic and… uh… ya. Sexy," Ulquiorra purred.

Grimmjow looked at him curiously. "Ya never talk like this normally," he said, his head falling unceremoniously to the left. "'s freaky."

"You should enjoy it, might never again," he hummed, playing idly with his hair.

There was a bit of a pause in which Grimmjow seemed to be trying to think over something. Trying and failing, if the stupid expression on his face was anything to go by.

"Ya any good?" he asked, eyeing Ulquiorra curiously.

Ulquiorra looked at him in confusion. "I believe I am quite good, if last night was any indicash- indictati-idication," Ulquiorra stumbled over his words cutely. Or so Grimmjow thought, at least.

"Nah, nah, 's not what I meant," Grimmjow whined, slapping his forehead. "Holy mother of fucking god!" he screeched, his enunciation returning momentarily.

"Left side," Ulquiorra mumbled as Grimmjow continued to curse quite articulately for the amount of alcohol in his system.

Once Grimmjow was done his complaining, he went back to staring at Ulquiorra.

"I meant, ya any good at fightin," he corrected, staring down Ulquiorra

_Futile, I always win staring contests._

"Unmatched," Ulquiorra said stoically. He figured he knew where this was going, and he was actually quite excited for it.

"Le's see," Grimmjow said. "But not here."

He walked, well, stumbled, over to the edge of the church grounds, the edge of sacred ground. Ulquiorra could fight uninhibited. Regardless of his motives, Ulquiorra followed Grimmjow.

"Do not whine when you lie defeated at my feet," Ulquiorra warned.

Grimmjow just 'tsk'ed and, standing on wobbly legs, got into a shaky fighting stance.

Ulquiorra merely stood up, not without the world spinning before him, mind you, but did not fall. His wings spread out generously behind him and his tail whipped out to the right side, normally used as an extra weapon, right then being used for balance.

Ulquiorra could tell that, had Grimmjow not been plastered as he was, he would have had a powerful stance as well. His legs were spread slightly and he was in a deep crouch. One hand was stretched out before him in an offensive style and his other hand twisted around his back, most likely helping his balance and used as an attack with more power should he choose to swing it. The stance, the positioning, even the wild gleam in his eyes seemed to be animalistic, cat-like in his grace, instinct and power. It would have been much more effective if he hadn't constantly been almost falling over.

Then again, the same could be said for Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra saw the transformation though. Grimmjow closed his eyes, seeming deep in concentration; somewhere deep in his mind that Ulquiorra could never catch him. When his eyes opened, they were sharp and alert. A far cry from their dreary, glassy look of moments ago. His entire body had sharpened, ready for a fight. His muscles flexed under his clothes and his stance was so predatorily that Ulquiorra had the sudden urge to concede his position.

"You don't scare me, Jaegerjaques," Ulquiorra said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Grimmjow's face broke out into a huge grin. "Was hopin' you'd say that,"

He lunged. Ulquiorra had never seen a human move so fast. He pushed himself back, propelling himself left and watching as Grimmjow streaked by, smile never leaving his face.

What unnerved Ulquiorra the most, though, was the fact that Grimmjow's eyes never left his. They stayed connected, and Ulquiorra knew it was no coincidence. Grimmjow could see every move.

_I've never met a seer like him._

It could have just been a one-time thing though. Ulquiorra decided not to muse over it too long.

He smirked slightly before using his _Sonido_ to get on the other side of Grimmjow.

"Wrong," Grimmjow said, directly above him.

Ulquiorra blinked and looked up, just in time to see Grimmjow's hand come down over his head and crush it to the ground. Ulquiorra hacked slightly on the dirt before grabbing Grimmjow's hand, still on his head, and whipping him in a full 360 degree circle, throwing him into the nearest tree.

"It's serious now," Ulquiorra stated flatly.

Grimmjow still had that manic smile on his lips.

"Fuck ya." Neither of them was drunk anymore.

It was one of the most intense moments of Ulquiorra's life, staring down the man he loved and was about to fight for the hell of it. It would be bloody, brutal and hard.

_Fuck ya._

Grimmjow launched forward, swiping his arm around and Ulquiorra raised his own hand to block it. But the power behind it was so great that he was flung back regardless.

He landed solidly on both his feet though. Grimmjow stood a few meters in front of him, teeth bared.

"Is that all, then?" Ulquiorra said, not at all trying to hide the condescending tone in his voice.

Grimmjow's insane smile turned into blood-lusting anger.

Ulquiorra paid it no mind and appeared in front of him, preparing to backhand him away. But Grimmjow caught his wrist and, with another smug grin, always with his too sharp canines showing, used the wrist as leverage to throw Ulquiorra again. Ulquiorra frowned and flipped in the air to land on his feet once again.

"Don't underestimate me," Grimmjow growled and lunged again. Ulquiorra would admit he was fast for a human. But not near as fast as him. He merely sidestepped the oncoming attack and watched as Grimmjow flew by him. But their eyes never left each other's. _How can he keep his eyes on me? I should not be seen by the naked human eye._ He didn't realise that Grimmjow had pounded his foot to the ground beside him and was using his momentum to propel him right into Ulquiorra. He was caught off balance but used his hand to quickly catch and flip himself up and away from Grimmjow again.

"You do not stand a chance against me, trash," Ulquiorra said factually. "You cannot overpower me and I doubt you could ever actually do any damage. Give up. Accept defeat. You are nothing but trash, and you will never be anything else." So naturally the words came. He had, after all, lived his whole life believing it so he really didn't question the logic behind it.

"Bullshit!" Grimmjow snapped and held out his right arm, his hand seeming to be outstretched for something, though he could not reach anything and nothing could possibly help him defeat the third most powerful demon alive.

Grimmjow closed his eyes again and Ulquiorra felt a strange surge of reiatsu.

_Reiatsu? That is the sense of spiritual power, reserved for demons or holy creatures._ Ulquiorra could hardly fathom it. _Does Grimmjow have spiritual power? But how? And how could I not have noticed?_

Something flew through the air and Grimmjow expertly plucked it from its path.

"Bet you remember her, huh Ulquiorra," Grimmjow said, brandishing an intricately designed sword in front of him, the hilt blue enough to match his eyes. "This is Pantera," he grinned wildly. "So I'll use her to prove that I am the strongest, stronger than you!"

Ulquiorra stared him down, unimpressed.

"Trash," he said, still unmoving. He did not need to provoke Grimmjow. He would merely let him tire himself out. Grimmjow seemed to understand his plan and his eyes became furious slits. "As if one demon slaying blade could kill me. With your abilities, you will not be able to scratch me," Ulquiorra said, staring unblinkingly at his opponent, though he seemed more of a toy than anything as he posed no real threat.

"You're gonna regret that," he said and turned the blade so it was held in his left hand, the left arm extended so the sword was facing backwards across the right side of his body and his right hand could rest on the blade. His fingers were stretched, like animal claws, across the bottom of the blade. It seemed a strange strategic position to Ulquiorra.

He had forgotten that Grimmjow had a Zanpakuto in his home, but it was no real issue. Though the blade was deadly to demons, Ulquiorra was too advanced for Grimmjow to handle with just a blade.

"Do you think you can defeat me now that you have one scrap of metal to help you? Pathetic," Ulquiorra said, crossing his arms over his chest and drumming his fingers on his forearm. "It will take more than that to even come close to defeating me."

"Ya, I know," Grimmjow said, his eyes shining with delight. A twisted delight that Ulquiorra had seen in many of his demon counterparts in the heat of battle; when they still thought they had a chance. "But I ain't done yet."

His muscles tensed, his eyes flashed, his hand scratched along the blade and Ulquiorra felt is eyes widen and jaw drop slightly as he watched Grimmjow do what even few seers could and something he had secretly hoped never to witness.

"Grind, Pantera!"

**XXX**

Grimmjow felt the power flowing through him at the words, spreading his concealed reiatsu back into his body.

When Grimmjow was thirteen, he'd developed a heady reiatsu, powerful to the point of near soffocation. Yoruichi had been shocked, as few seers were gifted with the natural ability to create reiatsu. It meant that he would be powerful and wield a zanpakuto made for him and all his power instead of merely being given a Zanpakuto to figure out how to use. However, reiatsu was dangerous to humans around him, so he'd been given a Zanpakuto to seal his reiatsu unless he needed it. All his power had gone into his sword, dubbed Pantera, to create a deadly accurate blade that had the power to slay demons and keep his mind-numbing power in check. Normally, Grimmjow would not release his Zanpakuto. He never wanted to lose that part of himself when it was released back inside of him, the reiatsu he had to bottle up, as it was a part of him, and when he did finally put the energy back into the Zanpakuto, he had already most likely left a hell of a lot of destruction in his wake. But, despite not really feeling the effects of the alcohol still raging in his system, he still had zero inhibitions and he was ready to use that to its extreme. He needed to let loose more often anyways.

Grimmjow felt his fingers extend into aggressive claws, black as night. He could feel his feet doing something similar. Armour plating was appearing all over his body, blades appearing from his arm, jutting out and running the length of each arm, other similar blades on his legs. His teeth, already having slightly too big canines, grew even more enlarged, becoming more feral and animalistic. He felt his elongating hair brush down his back and to his knees, flowing in tendrils like a waterfall of blue down his body. Grimmjow would probably never admit to anyone else how much he actually liked having his hair that long. It was all kept out of his face save for a few stray strands by a plate of armour that covered his forehead. He felt the extension of his spine as a tail, whipping around playfully, it too covered in armour. He could also feel the twitching of his green-blue ears, now pointing up from the sides of his head where his human ears one were, tipped in black. And, though he could not feel them, he knew the small tattoos under his eyes had extended across his face, encompassing his eyes and forming into a teal line leading right to his ears.

Power surged around him from the transformation, Resurrection, if he was being technical. He felt at home, natural with his reiatsu once again flowing through his veins and that missing part of him back where it belonged, feeding him the strength and form of what he truly was. _Panther._

He let out a roar of power, letting the shockwaves his voice sent out reverberate on every surface and every plane. The power from his restored reiatsu was palpable in the air, even seeable to his eyes as blue whisps of uncontrolled reiatsu swirled in the space around them. His hair blew around him with the force of his roar, and he felt the might of his power carrying him to new highs of delight.

And Ulquiorra stood there, looking dumbfounded and shell shocked as Grimmjow came to resemble one of his own kind. His grin only doubled.

"How do ya like that!" he howled in that deranged sort of way, but he didn't fucking care because he felt _fucking unstoppable!_

"Grimmjow…" Ulquiorra said with what Grimmjow caught as faint amazement. He grinned. The unshakable demon was speechless.

"Sunset," he said, nodding his head to the side, where the sun was setting beautifully in the west, throwing the sky into an array of reds and oranges, like a fire blazing out of control. A fitting setting for Grimmjow who could swear he could feel that very fire inside of him, burning to run and fight and destroy. "I ain't holdin' back Ulquiorra!" he shouted, pointing one midnight-black claw at the demon.

Ulquiorra straightened up, and Grimmjow saw a flash of defiance in his eyes. "Then I shall not either," he said, and disappeared from sight.

_Not from my sight though,_ he thought as he blocked Ulquiorra's attack with the blade on his right arm and pushed him back, never stopping his smile. His eyes were wide and manic, and he never wanted it to end. He whipped his body around and caught Ulquiorra in the side of the head, flinging him over across the field.

"You're holdin' back, bitch!" he accused, his face-splitting grin growing wider and wider.

Ulquiorra was on his feet in an instant and his wings spread out behind him, just before disappearing again. Grimmjow tracked his movements to above him and launched himself into the air, spinning expertly and trying to catch Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra grabbed his leg and threw him to the ground with heavy force. Grimmjow managed to right himself in the air and landed in a crouch on the ground, using the momentum to propel himself back up and catching Ulquiorra. Just barely, his claws scraping the moon-white skin of his cheek. Ulquiorra was unfazed though, and as he was coming back down, made sure to punch him as hard as he could to the ground.

_Probably gonna feel that in the morning,_ he thought. But it didn't hurt then. He, once again, landed on his feet and analyzed the situation. He had to ground Ulquiorra as he was at a disadvantage in the air. He couldn't fly and jumping up and down was only leaving openings. _Gotta get the wings,_ he decided. _I'm faster, I'm built for speed._

Ulquiorra extended a finger at him and green light began to gather on the end. Grimmjow's eyes widened as Ulquiorra said, still blankly, "Cero."

Grimmjow dashed out of the way, only to find another one coming at him.

_Fucking cero._

Cero was a demon ability. Most could use it, but it took a certain skill to control it, one no doubt Ulquiorra had perfected.

_Well two can play at that game._

He turned around, held his entire palm out and jumped getting close to Ulquiorra, who had dodged thinking he would try to physically come at him again, and striking with something he knew Ulquiorra wasn't expecting.

"Gran Ray Cero!" he hollered and the blue gathering light in his hand shot at Ulquiorra. The light was blinding and he lost sight of what happened.

_Did I get him?_

"Cero Oscuras." _Fuck._

Grimmjow didn't have time to dodge it from behind him, so he quickly countered with his own Gran Ray Cero.

_He can use the black Cero?_ The most coveted of the cero techniques, by far the strongest, was Cero Oscuras.

Unfortunately, the Gran Ray Cero couldn't hold off the Cero Oscuras and Grimmjow took a detrimental hit, falling to the ground with painful force.

But he always managed to land on his feet. _Panther's still a cat, I guess._

His legs were fine and his arms seemed ok, a little burned but manageable. His torso was definitely feeling it though. He imagined he looked pretty beat up.

But who fucking cared!

He spit a bit of blood out of his mouth and propelled himself back into the air to relish in the scintillating feeling of the fight.

"Blindly attacking will get you nowhere," Ulquiorra reprimanded as he easily dodged Grimmjow's attack.

Grimmjow's grin became devious. "I've been called a lot of things, but never blind," he admitted. "Don't forget who you're dealing with." In the hand Grimmjow had not been supposedly reaching to attack with was another Gran Ray Cero, and he was at very close range.

Ulquiorra's eyes went wide before he was struck down, falling through the air.

He frowned and tried to move his wings, only to find only one was working. Ulquiorra quickly flickered his eyes to see his left wing had been snapped out of place. The cero had hit at the perfect angle to knock it out of place.

"Nothin' to regenerate there," Grimmjow chuckled. "Bet ya didn't know I noticed." Grimmjow tapped his cheek, in the spot Ulquiorra had before taken a small scratch, long since healed. Ulquiorra was only able to use one wing to cushion his fall, turning him at an odd angle and crashing into the ground.

Ulquiorra righted himself as quickly as he could, but not before Grimmjow was behind him again. He grabbed hold of the right wing and easily popped it out of place.

"Sides, I never randomly attack. I was watchin' the way your wings worked. Easier to snap 'em outta place, ya know," he chuckled and kicked Ulquiorra squarely in the back, sending him flying over the plains again. "Stop underestimatin' me," he growled and sonidoed forward again. Ulquiorra's finger was up again then. _Ah shit._

"Cero Oscuras." Grimmjow jumped into the air again, the only escape, and saw Ulquiorra point another finger up at him. _No way in hell!_

"Cero Oscuras," he repeated and the black blast of energy fired up at him. Grimmjow roared, the shockwaves displacing it slightly before brandishing his claw before him.

"Desgarron!" he shouted and long blue lights extended from his claws. He raised his claws, the extensions of them following, and struck them down at the Cero Oscuras. His Desgarron cut through it at just the right angle and Grimmjow fell, headfirst, down toward Ulquiorra, intent on using the Desgarron to rip him apart.

"Lanza del Relampago," Ulquiorra said and a green speak like energy weapon appeared in his hand. He thrust the spear into Grimmjow's Desgarron and the force from both the power's fighting sent waves through the air and kept Grimmjow suspended above. Both were fighting with their strongest ability and both were determined to win.

Ulquiorra began charging another Cero and Grimmjow knew he had to think fast. He had to hold his Desgarron or he'd fall to Ulquiorra's spear. He hissed and thought quickly.

_The darts!_ In his arms were crystalline darts! They could distract Ulquiorra enough for him to win. However they were at an odd angle from where he was now. He had one chance, just one.

This all went through his head in a matter of seconds before Ulquiorra's Cero Oscuras was ready.

Grimmjow twisted his whole body upside down so instead of his head, his back was facing Ulquiorra, his hands extended behind him and the darts were in the right position. He fired

But so did Ulquiorra.

And they both hit with chilling accuracy.

Grimmjow was thrown even higher into the air and burned greater before finally falling to the ground a few meters away, for the first time on his back instead of his feet. Ulquiorra got the full impact of five of the darts in his chest and he hacked up blood as they pushed him into the crumbling earth. Both had had to let go of their ultimate attacks.

"Bastard," Grimmjow groaned and attempted to sit up, but found nothing was working right.

"Are you alright?" Ulquiorra asked, rolling onto his stomach and groaning from the pain as he tried to get up that way.

"Fuck you," he growled, digging his claws into the ground and finally pushing himself into a sitting position.

_A fucking tie._

Grimmjow knew that Ulquiorra was stronger than him and that technically, he should have lost. His attacks, his physical capabilities, his healing power, it was all stronger than Grimmjow. It killed him to know that.

However, Ulquiorra could not fight inventively or instinctively like Grimmjow and could not analyze the situation quite as fast nor manipulate it to his advantage. Grimmjow could. That was the difference. It was the only reason he'd managed to be on par with Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra used the last strength in his body to crawl over to Grimmjow. His armour was dented and scratched, his long blue hair a sweaty mess but his eyes were still alight with a fire that would go on unquenched into forever.

Grimmjow inspected Ulquiorra's damage. His wings seemed to be the worst of it, quivering in what he assumed was restricted pain.

_Shit, I always get so carried away, _he thought before attempting to reach out to him.

"Ulquiorra…" Grimmjow said, looking up into his green, green eyes.

"Mate with me," Ulquiorra suddenly said, staring intensely down into his oceanic blue eyes.

Grimmjow blinked, not really processing that. Hadn't they sort of been trying to kill each other seconds ago?

"Come again?" he said, lifting an eyebrow.

"Mate with me," he repeated unblinkingly, as though he just walked up and said it to anyone on the street. Like it was _normal._

"Huh?" It just wasn't processing.

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Mating between demons is a sacred act where two choose each other to spend the rest of their… I suppose you could call it 'lives' though we are not technically alive. It is a ritual that bonds two demons together at a soul deep level and allows them to feel each other's emotions and sense when they are in danger. It is a partnership of sorts, only a very intimate one, the most intimate for a demon." He paused and let it sink in for a moment. "A demon can only mate once in their life, therefore they must choose a suitable mate. I did not think love could fall into the equation in choosing a mate, I thought it was moreso about choosing a mate that you could stand to be around and could be of some use in a battle. However, as I am certain that I love you, I am no longer so sure. Perhaps love does equate somewhere, though I have never seen another demon fall in love to this extent so I will assume I am a rare and abnormal case. That being said, I do not wish to forfeit this feeling, therefore I wish to claim you and be claimed in return to keep us together." He paused again as he stared down into Grimmjow's wide eyes.

"You make it sound so… clinical," Grimmjow said, scratching his head idly.

Ulquiorra sighed. "Very well, then." He leaned down and stared hopefully and lovingly into Grimmjow's eyes, to the point Grimmjow could feel his heart racing again. "Grimmjow, I love you and never wish to be separated from you. I wish to spend my life with you. It cannot be wrong, because I feel no wrong when I am near you. You are strong, you are caring… sometimes, and I love you with what little I am. I pray you accept my offer. Grimmjow, be my mate."

Grimmjow blinked, completely taken in by Ulquiorra.

But… should he?

He would be, in essence, promising to love a demon for the rest of his life. It was a frightening concept.

Wasn't it?

It should have been, but Grimmjow could not really see the harm in it. He already loved Ulquiorra. That broke most of his preconceived rules anyways, so hell, why not keep it forever?

_I love him, that's all there is to it. I won't love like this again._ He knew it in every fibre of his being. He could never love another like this. Ulquiorra was sharp with him when he needed to be, took all his crap and gave it back, usually in very few words, an could fight on equal terms with him. He was also in love with Grimmjow and wanted him, he depended on Grimmjow and he wanted to be better, wanted redemption and peace.

And the sex was fucking fantastic.

So… why not?

"Yes," he said definitively. "I'll mate with you."

Ulquiorra smiled breath-takingly and kissed Grimmjow with all his might. Grimmjow kissed him back, finally finding the energy to wind his arms around Ulquiorra's back and pull them both into a deeper, soul-searing kiss.

"I love you, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow said when they parted for air.

"I love you too, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra replied with a smile. "Can you move?" he asked curiously.

Grimmjow frowned at that and tried to move so he would be on top of Ulquiorra, but his body protested angrily by throwing him through a few hurdles of ungodly pain.

"Shit. Can we wait 'til tomorrow or something?" he asked.

"No," Ulquiorra said, his curiosity seeming to be piqued. "I would like to try something."

He easily straddled Grimmjow and stared heatedly down at him.

"You're hurt too, ya know," Grimmjow eminded him, nodding slightly towards his dislocated wings.

"Ah yes. Can you put those back for me?" he asked, turning so his back was facing Grimmjow.

_I did this. _The guilt began to eat away at him.

He used whatever little strength he had left in his aching arms to harshly pull the wings back into place, Ulquiorra unable to hide his gasp of pain.

"Shit, Ulquiorra. Sorry," he said, leaning his head on Ulquiorra's shoulder.

"I am fine," he said, and sounded fine. Grimmjow knew he wasn't though.

"We should wait until we heal," Grimmjow murmered.

"Can you move?" Ulquiorra asked, laying Grimmjow down on his back again carefully.

"No, bet I can't move a damn limb," he muttered unhappily. Ulquiorra hummed thoughtfully.

"Perhaps I can use that to my advantage then." Ulquiorra swung one leg over Grimmjow and straddled him. Grimmjow's eyebrows shot up.

"You're gonna ride me," Grimmjow said in awe. "Fuckin' ride me. " He thought that over. "That's fuckin' hot."

Ulquiorra smirked and kissed Grimmjow because his incessant babbling was ruining the mood.

He let his hands trail down Grimmjow's stomach, making sure to any special attention to his well-defined abs. Ulquiorra had to admit, he liked them very, very much. He licked his lips in anticipation and slid his body, mind-numbingly slowly mind you, up and down Grimmjow's lower body, frustrating him to no end.

"You are such a fucking _tease,"_ he groaned and tried to arch up, but it only resulted in causing him even more pain. _Damn Cero Oscuras._

"And you can do nothing about it," Ulquiorra said, running a single finger down Grimmjow's entire body and once over his cock. But that was it. Once. Grimmjow would have strangled him if he could have moved. "Just relax, Grimmjow," he murmured, moving his lips to ghost over Grimmjow's throat.

_I get hard every damn time he says my fucking name,_ he thought irately.

Ulquiorra continued to torture him, making his touches mere phantoms of what they could be. His hands just barely touched Grimmjow's skin and it sent shocks through his oversensitive nerves at the moment.

Grimmjow thought the torture would go on forever.

Ulquiorra increased the pressure against his inner thighs and Grimmjow groaned. He was sensitive in this form, apparently. Ulquiorra used his mouth to flick his tongue lightly against Grimmjow's raised nipples, though he chose not to linger in any one spot too long. His hands worked along his pelvic area, growing increasingly in pressure in his touches. Grimmjow almost enjoyed the torture, though he much rather would have been slamming into his demon. It seemed Ulquiorra was going to draw it out for a while though.

Until Ulquiorra suddenly slammed his ass down hard on Grimmjow's cock. Grimmjow's head fell back in a loud, resounding moan.

"Fuck, Ulquiorra!" he shouted, his jaw slack from such pleasure.

Ulquiorra's eyebrows were furrowed as he tried to accustom himself to Grimmjow's large length. It was no small task, literally speaking.

"Do you like this, Grimmjow?" he asked, shifting slightly on his cock and causing Grimmjow to moan again. "Do you like me being in control, having the power to torture you? To take as much of you into me as I wish?" Grimmjow's moaning was growing louder as Ulquiorra began to move slowly. "Perhaps next time I will tie you up, run my claws down your back and you will beg for me," he was growling, moving faster, his own words making him hotter. "And then you will dominate me, prove to me who I belong to, make me yours and pound it into me so hard that I will be satisfied by no other ever again," Ulquiorra couldn't stop his own moan.

Suddenly, Ulquiorra was flipped over and a feral, lusty Grimmjow hovered over him, staring down at him heatedly.

"I'm gonna prove who you belong to right fucking now," he said, pushing long and hard into Ulquiorra. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Grimmjow," he moaned, pushing his body back against Grimmjow's.

"Louder!" he snarled.

"You, Grimmjow! Only ever you!" He cried out harshly and arched up as his prostate was struck dead on. He squirmed and writhed beneath Grimmjow, wanting to feel it again.

Grimmjow made sure to strike it hard again. And again and again and again.

And it didn't take much more than that. Ulquiorra was already on the verge of coming.

"Grimmjow, bite my neck! Mark me and take me blood into you, and I'll do the same!" he cried out between moans. Grimmjow didn't need to be told twice. His sharper than normal canines bit harshly into Ulquiorra's neck and he sucked the blood into him, feeling Ulquiorra's own fangs against his neck.

"Yes!" the both cried and came hard, still trapped in each other's necks.

But they didn't let go. Not even after they had come. Their teeth remained indented into each other's necks, sucking and biting and marking. Grimmjow felt a haze come over his mind and suddenly he could distantly feel something else inside of him. Another soul, not his own, existing within him. He could feel the other soul's own love and lust and unfathomable happiness in the moment. _Ulquiorra…_

_Grimmjow._ Grimmjow could just faintly hear Ulquiorra through that strange bond. Something he couldn't explain, but something that didn't need to be explained.

Finally they retracted their teeth from each other but made no move to get up.

"Stay here, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra whispered against the bruised skin of his neck, kissing it gently and licking it better.

"Yes, always," he whispered back, similarly licking at the purpling skin. He could sense Ulquiorra's reiastu had changed slightly. He could sense himself within Ulquiorra.

Grimmjow felt Ulquiorra's tail curling around, instead of his leg this time, his own tail. Grimmjow wrapped back around his in return. He brought their claws together and looked into the stunning green eyes of his mate.

"I love you," he said, kissing Ulquiorra's forehead softly.

"I love you too," he replied, slightly muffled as he buried his head in the crook of Grimmjow's neck. Grimmjow smiled, wrapped his arms around Ulquiorra protectively, almost possessively, and yawned tiredly, easily falling to sleep with his new mate enclosed in his arms.

They did not move for the rest of the night.

**XXX**

**AN:** Again, hello everybody. I really hope you're all enjoying the story so far as I know that I really enjoy writing it.

So, yea, this chapter just popped into my head and I thought, "Yes! This has to happen!" I always knew I wanted them to be mated, but I was never really sure how. First it was just going to be a romantic evening. Then the drunk thing happened and I thought that was pretty funny. They were just gonna have sex after drinking but then I thought, "Bad idea! They shouldn't mate while drunk!" Besides, this was funner. Grimmjow hasn't fought a lot yet so I figured I'd give him a break here.

I have never ever written an action scene before so this is totally new to me! Don't be to harsh!

The action itself was probably a little dissapointing what with the tie and all. However, I wanted to show that they are both on equal playing ground and, sadistic bastards that they are, they are more convinced than ever that they are meant to be after it. Hence the whole mating proposition. Nothing get's you in the mood like a near fight to the death.

Maybe it was wrong to say that Grimmjow could match up to Ulquiorra in a fight. But I like to play around with these characters and how I think they would have acted in the situation. Grimmjow has to be more technical, especially in this story as he's always had to fight creatures who are on a whole different level. Even in the anime he seems a little more resourceful and conniving than Ulquiorra, more of a planner I guess. Probably because Ulquiorra is strong enough that he just sorta waltzes in and wins. It works, yes, but he doesn't really have a flashy technique like Grimmjow because he's never needed one. That's my excuse, anyways. It's one of the reasons I like writing about them, you can read a lot into the character and make up what you believe they would be like.

As for Neliel, sorry I didn't mention her, but fear not, she'll be showing up next time with a serious attack of the PLOT! Finally, right?

So, I now know exactly how this is going to go. I know the bigger plot points in the story and how they'll play out. I do not know, however, all the inbetween stuff so don't hesitate to tell me the story needs something or maybe you wanna see something happen.

I guess that's it for now. Thank you all for your lovely reviews, favorites and alerts, and I'll keep updating the more it happens! See you all next time!


	10. The Age of Love

**Chapter 10**

Grimmjow furrowed his eyebrows, aware of a difference in his usual routine the moment he'd awoken. He didn't even need to open his eyes.

For starters, he was already pretty sure he was suffering from a severe hangover. Now, that wasn't a huge deal, he'd dealt with enough in his time to be used to it. It was just the consequences weren't usually the best.

His bed felt different. Which probably meant it wasn't his bed. Lovely. In fact, it didn't feel like a bed at all. _Grass._ He'd slept in the grass. The notion wasn't one that really phased him, he rather liked sleeping under the stars and he'd done so many times before, sometimes preferring it to the stagnant room. Call it his instinctual nature.

_Speaking of instincts,_ he thought tiredly, flexing his hand once and finding it had much more strength contained in it, not to mention claws. So, he'd released. He was now lying around as Pantera where anyone could see him. Probably not a good idea.

The last thing, though, caught his attention much more so. Ulquiorra was curled in his arms. He knew it was Ulquiorra because no other demon would cuddle up to him and not kill him.

But… that wasn't the only reason he knew it was him, surprisingly. Sure, he could sense it was a demon what with being in his Pantera form, even a strong one with a dense reiatsu. _Really dense, suffocating, almost._ He wasn't being suffocated though. It had no affect on him other that a warm, enveloping feeling.

Grimmjow could, inside of him, feel that Ulquiorra was there. He also felt that he was asleep, and most likely should not be wakened. He was having a good dream.

Grimmjow should _not have known that._ But he did. How?

The mating came back to him at that precise moment.

Grimmjow's eyes flashed open and he found himself staring at a lightening sky. Judging by the light and the stars' position, it was just after six o'clock.

Ulquiorra shifted slightly, probably sensing Grimmjow's distress.

_What was I thinking?_

No more getting drunk around demons. It just didn't lead to anything good. Anything to do with demons never led to anything good.

He had to get rid of the mating. Soon. Now.

Grimmjow looked down and caught the top of Ulquiorra's head. He looked peaceful. _Something he wanted._ Maybe he'd be more willing to die having some of his wishes realized.

Grimmjow cringed away from the thought. He didn't want to kill him, probably couldn't. He hadn't been able to before, when he'd realised he loved him. Now it would be even harder.

He felt so conflicted, his mind racing from one scenario to the other.

He didn't understand what it meant to be mated to Ulquiorra. He'd only started to figure out his feelings for the other man. _Demon, not man, _he corrected himself. It was getting harder to separate the two in his mind.

_Why the fuck m I stressing over this?_ He suddenly thought. _I love him, end of story. _He grinned unexpectedly. _I'm just gonna do whatever the fuck I want!_

His internal ramblings and conflictions finally seemed to have awakened Ulquiorra. It was strange knowing all of this now.

"Grimmjow, is something the matter?" Ulquiorra asked. His voice was clear without a hint of exhaustion in it even if he'd just woken up. Grimmjow wondered how he did it.

"Nothin's wrong," he shrugged, looking down to meet Ulquiorra's beautiful, emerald green eyes. The eyes, no longer dead or haunting, but so alive and full of things Grimmjow was just delving into.

And every thought he'd ever had that mating to Ulquiorra was a bad idea flew from his mind. Because this couldn't be wrong. It could never be wrong. He gently leaned down to kiss those soft lips and Ulquiorra happily obliged. It went on for minutes, but to Grimmjow it went on forever, and it wasn't long enough.

They finally pulled back and Grimmjow had a smile, not a grin or a smirk, but a smile gracing his lips.

"Good mornin' to ya too," he said, nuzzling Ulquiorra's hair.

"Mm, yes. It is a good morning," he agreed. "Though I feel slightly unsteady despite lying down."

Grimmjow chuckled and stroked Ulquiorra's hair easily. "Probably the after-effects of the beer, the fight, the _amazing _sex- you're welcome- and, even though I got no clue how it works, probably the mating too." Ulquiorra seemed to consider his propositions. He seemed to lose interest, though, when he started playing idly with Grimmjow's long hair, spilling in a blue splaying waterfall around them.

"You are confused about the mating?" Ulquiorra asked distractedly. Apparently, he was putting most of his attention into making a small braid in a few of the blue strands.

"Not exactly. I know what it's s'pose' to mean and everything, I just don't get how it'll affect me," he shrugged, his eyes trained on Ulquiorra's delicate claw movements. He'd never pegged Ulquiorra as one to do anything gently.

"I believe you are feeling some of those effects as we speak," Ulquiorra pointed out, attention never drifting far away from his menial task. "You will be able to sense me when I am near, be able to feel some of what I am feeling, know when I am in trouble, things like that," he explained. "I believe mating was originally, and normally remains today, a way to gain a strong battle partner. A survival technique, if you will. A demon will normally mate with someone who fights in a complimentary way to their own abilities. Certainly, it is an attractive quality. Perhaps that is part of what finally made me ask you to mate with me, having seen you fight. And, as we are still animals in our most basic forms, I suppose it is also a way to relieve pent up sexual desires," he said, calm as ever. "Demons, though rarely feel love in any form, are often victims of lust. It is not surprising. Is lust not one of the seven deadly sins? At any rate, to quell our desires, we find a mate. The deprivation of a physical outlet can inhibit fighting skills and, in the world of demons, that is something that cannot be tolerated, lest you have a death wish."

Grimmjow allowed that to sink in. "So, what we have is some sort of battle treaty or something?" He found that he didn't like that at all. Is that all the mating was to Ulquiorra? Just a way to save his skin in a crisis?

Before he could grow too furious, Ulquiorra interrupted his thoughts, leading Grimmjow to believe he could feel some of the rage through their new bond.

"If that is all you think this is, then you truly are a complete and utter fool. Have you no sense of what is in me? Do you not feel that love yourself? This is far more than just a simple, rudimentary mating," Ulquiorra said. Grimmjow could feel some anger on his part too, most likely directed at his idea. Compartmentalising it like that. They were different, not like other mated pairs. Ulquiorra truly loved him and, if he was being truthful, believed that Ulquiorra would want nothing more than to see Grimmjow never enter another fight in his lifetime.

His lifetime…

"And what about when I get old, huh?" Grimmjow asked, catching Ulquiorra's claw in his hair and stopping him from continuing. He wanted his full attention for this, not an answer half-formulated and not thought out. "I dunno how long you guys live, but it sure beats out a human life. Hell, do you ever age? So, what happens when I'm old and finally bite the dust? Still gonna be around then?"

Ulquiorra slapped him across the face. Hard.

Grimmjow did not turn his face back, merely stared into the distance, watching the first rays of the sun peak over the horizon. _It's so empty,_ he though distantly. _Like nothing could ever grow there._

_Like Ulquiorra's eyes just days ago._

"Do not speak of me leaving you, Grimmjow. If you believe something like _age,_" he sneered the word, "could ever tear me from you, then you do not understand the depth of my feelings." He spoke with the most emotion Grimmjow had ever heard from him, except perhaps the time Grimmjow had almost killed him.

And he was usually pretty expressive during sex.

"I will not leave your side until your body is separated from mine be earth or your ashes run from me in the wind. Even then, my heart will follow you into the next world, and then soon after I shall too." His words were spoken with such honestly, his words accented by his heart pouring itself into the bond that Grimmjow found he was holding his breath. "Your body is beautiful, yes, but it is not what makes me love you. So your looks shall fade, so mine have too through the years and here you lay," he gestured to Grimmjow's deathly still body beneath him. "Ever willing to lay with a demon, to love a creature whose very being defines hell. My body is not meant to attract physically, it is meant to kill. And yet, you found something in me to love." He stroked Grimmjow's cheek softly. "Your age will not tarnish my affections. If anything, they will only grow with time, though I can hardly imagine feeling any more than I do now. To grow old is beautiful. It means life, the signals of time, the mindset that time is not something to be wasted, but to cherish. I will never grow old. I will never be natural or beautiful, and perhaps I can never truly understand how to live every moment as though I would die in decade or a day. To ask you to stay with me was selfish, perhaps you did not know how much so, but it was unbearably selfish, and here I stand, begging your humanity and beauty and love and all that it entails, and you ask me if I will remain here when you grow _old?"_ He was furious. Absolutely, unbelievably furious.

And so beautiful. So human, that it almost hurt Grimmjow to look at him.

Ulquiorra's breathing was heavy, his eyes fiery, his heart beating to the sound of a hummingbirds' wing.

Grimmjow gently took Ulquiorra's claw into his and pressed his lips to it.

"Are we so different?" he whispered, holding Ulquiorra's claw delicately in his. As though he would break. "I am human, but we aren't so far apart. Especially now," he accented it by bringing his tail to brush against Ulquiorra's leg. "Am I evil? Am I unnatural, even now?" Ulquiorra only shook his head. They were staring intently into each other's eyes as though the answer to their worlds was inside them. Perhaps it was so. "Then you don't have to be either."

Ulquiorra collapsed on his chest, curling into a ball, trying to block the rest of the world out while he tried to accept something that hundreds, maybe thousands of years, had dictate against him. But he could never keep Grimmjow out. Grimmjow wrapped his arms around the still ball of demon and whispered soft hushing noises into his black, elongated ears.

"You aren't alone anymore, Ulquiorra." He petted back his soft, black locks and saw Ulquiorra's calculating, frightened eyes watching him.

"I feel… it is hard to explain," he said, his eyes darting around, like the answer was contained in the surrounding landscape. "I don't feel… empty anymore," he explained, unable to be any more specific. It was enough for Grimmjow though, and he gently kissed the other. He felt Ulquiorra's tail wrap easily around his waist, holding him in an unbreakable grip. An attempt to keep the emptiness away forever and Grimmjow with him to chase it away when it came knocking again.

Grimmjow slowly, carefully rolled them over so Ulquiorra was under him, Grimmjow holding himself right above him, but still touching. Ulquiorra needed to feel Grimmjow, and he recognized this need. _Let me be all he feels._

He kissed Ulquiorra softly, beginning to massage him all over to reaffirm that his existence would protects him. Ulquiorra took everything in and locked his arms around Grimmjow's neck, unwilling to ever let go. Grimmjow's hair fell all around them and when Grimmjow broke the kiss to get air and move to his neck, Ulquiorra buried his face in the tresses around his head.

Grimmjow could not hurt Ulquiorra in the least, not like this, so he refused to even bite into the clean, white skin in front of him, unwilling to even mark him as his. Ulquiorra had a deeper mark in his heart. He rubbed Ulquiorra's back comfortingly, making small circular motions around his back until he hit the joints attatching his wings. He spread his fingers and stroked the span of wing, taking in its velvety texture and was mesmerised when the wings stretched further out, leaving them all out for Grimmjow's inspection. He left no part of the wings untouched, unloved.

_You don't scare me,_ he thought and it translated in his touches and must have gone through the mate bond because Ulquiorra shivered and his grip on Grimmjow's neck tightened again. Grimmjow knew his hands wouldn't move; they would stay holding Grimmjow flush against his body throughout the experience.

Grimmjow moved one hand to rub at his ribs, sickly protruding from his sides as though he'd never had enough to eat, and moved the other to trail his fingers down his horns. They were pure bone.

He would caress and love every part that Ulquiorra despised, every part that made him feel less human, he would make it feel human to Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra seemed to understand and when Grimmjow's hand moved down again, he lifted his body slightly up, allowing Grimmjow to caress his tail. He ran his hand along it, gently squeezing in places to make sure Ulquiorra never forgot where his hands were.

Then he moved to the gaping hole in Ulquiorra's abdomen. Grimmjow felt him hold his breath, like he needed air, as both hands approached it. Grimmjow circled it with one hand, palm flat, and the other went around his back to gently feel inside it. Ulquiorra flinched, his eyes narrowing in slight pain. Grimmjow almost moved away before Ulquiorra looked at him pleadingly and his tail curled around his left wrist, the one at his back, and held it there. Grimmjow continued, putting very light pressure, and was surprised when small sounds of pleasure and even tiny moans poured from Ulquiorra's mouth. He pressed a little harder and Ulquiorra's moaning became louder, urging him on.

Finally, after several minutes of this, Grimmjow laced three fingers at Ulquiorra's mouth. Ulquiorra almost eagerly took them into his mouth, sucking and licking with rapt attention. His tongue danced around the digits, and he sucked them once in a while.

Grimmjow grit his teeth to hold back a moan and pulled them out, but Ulquiorra held onto them, seeming unwilling to be rid of a part of Grimmjow inside of him. Grimmjow felt a shock go through him at this. He licked more, sucked harder, did not want to be without him if even in the most trivial way.

He finally coaxed his fingers out and Ulquiorra gave him the most pleading look, it went straight to Grimmjow's heart. And his cock. He was fucking ready to cum already.

He positioned his fingers at Ulquiorra's hole, inserting one finger slowly, not wanting to cause any more pain than absolutely necessary. Ulquiorra needed to be treasured and treated carefully, the smallest thing could break him. Ulquiorra didn't flinch when the first one went in. Grimmjow kissed him passionately and Ulquiorra responded in turn. He slowly added the second finger, feeling a slight twitch from the body beneath him. He slowed his pace immediately, kissing him deeper. Their tongues swirled together in a dance that only they could understand, only meant to be danced by them.

Grimmjow slowly added the third finger and Ulquiorra cringed. Grimmjow wrapped his spare are around Ulquiorra and held him closer, comforting him.

Grimmjow angled his fingers and finally hit the spot he knew would have Ulquiorra seeing stars.

Ulquiorra arched back, breaking off the kiss and gasping out Grimmjow's name uninhibitedly. Grimmjow hit it three more times before Ulquiorra was all but crying in pleasure.

Ulquiorra, shuffled and gave him a knowing look dead in his eyes.

Grimmjow nodded and removed his fingers, only to replace it immediately with his cock. Ulquiorra would not bear to be apart from him for more than seconds. He thrust in, and Ulquiorra choked back a scream, coming out as a loud, resounding moan. Grimmjow could feel Ulquiorra's pleasure through the bond, but it was hard to focus on that.

Ulquiorra was just so _fucking tight!_

He moaned out loud after shifting slightly. It was agonizing, only being in him, not moving. Ulquiorra bucked his hips, and Grimmjow could no longer hold back. He pounded into Ulquiorra with chilling accuracy, hitting his prostate dead on every time. Ulquiorra kept calling out his name, moaning how he loved him.

And Grimmjow reciprocated, howling Ulquiorra's name to the wind and whispering words of love and affection in his ear, words only meant for him.

Ulquiorra could no longer handle the pleasure and came with one last cry of Grimmjow's name.

Grimmjow groaned out Ulquiorra's name too and came inside him, barely managing to hold himself above Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra, too quickly for Grimmjow's sated brain to follow, flipped their positions so Ulquiorra was resting on Grimmjow's chest again, Grimmjow still inside him.

"Stay, just for a while," he whispered in his twitching blue ear.

Grimmjow smiled at him and kissed him gently. Tails intertwined and still connected in the most intimate of ways, they both dozed for just a little while more.

**XXX**

"Where is she!" screamed the infuriated, inexhaustible voice of Nnoitra Jiruga. It had been _days_ since he'd last seen Neliel and he was growing tired of being patient. It just wasn't in his nature. "She could not leave. She could _not!_"

Stark sat in the dining room, leaned back in the chair with his black boots, Italian, of course, crossed on the table in a clear indication that Nnoitra was not fazing him. His usual grey coat hung off him, made of wolf's fur and lined with the softest of the stuff, impeccable. It had been tailored to his needs. Not at his discretion, though. He always wondered why Hallibel went to all the trouble over details like clothes.

"_You look more intimidating if you walk in looking superior."_

He supposed it was the price for mating her, putting up with her eccentricities. He supposed he shouldn't complain, though. Hallibel was never on his case, usually let him do as he pleased and kept him in line and ready to fight when he needed it. Yes, she must have been the closest thing he would ever come to a perfect match. Strong, calculating, determined, beautiful, and deadly as poison, Hallibel was something entirely other in the realm of demons. Stark would never assume he had ever tamed her. If anything, he was on the leash, despite being stronger.

"Apparently, she did," Stark replied tiredly. He knew that no answer was really required, but entertainment was hard to come by lately and watching Nnoitra storm around the manor, all but screaming in rage, provided a temporary lapse from boredom.

"I know perfectly well she did!" he snapped, getting right in Stark's face, to which he really didn't appreciate.

He placed a finger on Nnoitra's head and shoved him back a bit. "Thanks for that," he said, drawing back his hand and putting both of them behind his head, the picture of ease. "Hali ain't gonna like it if I smell like your breath. Probably scrub my face clean off to get rid of it. You know how she is." Stark had a bad habit of pissing off everybody he came into contact with. _What does she see in me?_

Nnoitra was shaking in anger. Stark worked hard to keep a smirk off his face and easily caught the fist thrown at his face. He bent his wrist slightly, bending Nnoitra's backwards, and watched him flinch. "Remember who you're throwin' punches at, Nnoitra," Stark warned in his lazy drawl. He sounded far from serious, but the constant, increasing pressure of Nnoitra's hand proved differently. Just before he was sure the bone would break, Stark released him and Nnoitra backed up a few steps, rubbing the offended hand. His glare could cut through steel, but never Stark.

"Continue with your rant," Stark said, flipping his hand dismissively before grabbing his hat- a cowboy hat that Hallibel always complained about when it was worn- and placed it so the tip covered his eyes from the sight of the disgruntled mantis demon. One of the positives of the hat was how he could always make so that he never had to actually see anything he'd rather not. Like Nnoitra's face, for instance, but other things too. Pretty trivial, really. Sometimes Szayel's experiments would get loose and run amok in the manor, usually naked. Sometimes the fraccion would taunt each other and try to play annoying games Stark couldn't care less about. Sometimes Hali would get real pissed at him and start berating him on his different flaws. Prime hat time.

_Come to think of it, maybe that's why she hates it so much._

"You ain't no damn help!" he snarled, whipping around to continue his pacing. He must have realised that picking a fight with Stark, strongest of the Espada, strongest demon alive, was not the smartest idea. _A rare moment of actual insight._

"Don't know what you want me to say, Nnoitra. You bring it on yourself," he shrugged, pushing the hat more prominently in front of his face. He felt when Nnoitra was standing before him again.

"What do ya know! She's my mate! I'll treat her how I see fit!"

Stark swirled a pinky in his ear. "Always gotta yell?" he asked, leaning back again. "I'm actually surprised she didn't kick your ass when she coulda. Hali would," he pointed out, mentally allowing Nnoitra's slow ticking brain to try and make sense of everything, dulled further by rage.

"Maybe your mate don't know her place, but Neliel does!" he snarled. "She did, before she ran off to Go-" he hacked a bit. "To g-" Stark frowned slightly as he heard Nnoitra's coughing fit increase. _God knows where._

"Pick a different word. You know demons who've Descended can't say God," he reminded him, pushing the brim of his hat up enough for his left eye to peek out and see the hunched, coughing figure of Nnoitra, choking on words not meant for his kind to say.

"I ain't Descended yet!" he growled, glaring up at Stark from his bent form. Stark lifted an eyebrow skeptically.

"Fine then. Choke yourself to death on holy words for all I care," he shrugged tiredly, sick of Nnoitra's denial. Any demon could tell when one had Descended. Once they had, they were rash, based more off instinct, unable to think things through. _More like when we were in hell, before we got back here._ Usually Descended demons didn't last too long. Their rashness and inability to really plan things through usually spelled out their demise and they were back in Hell before long. Back to that burning and aching and the sheer torture of it all.

No one talked about it. It was over, and there was nothing any demon could do to change it. All anyone could do was live in this world, the human world, and hope to God-_ironic-_ that you weren't killed and sent back down. Those were your options. A menial, bored existence filled with the day to day of the mundane life, or rot in Hell for all eternity. You could probably guess which one demons were more inclined to,

No one really knew how a demon got back up. The general assumption was that the good ol' Devil himself didn't want things getting to happy-peachy-easy life in the Mortal World, so he sent Demons to crash the party. But that was just a guess. Could be dumb luck, could have unknowingly escaped, could have been released on good behavior for all Stark knew. The only thing that was for sure was that he was back and he did not plan to go down again. He'd make sure that him, and Hali, stayed up in the Mortal World for a good long time. Like eternity.

"I'm tellin' ya, I ain't Descended! I'd know," he argued, punching the wall in a fit of uncontrollable anger.

"Yes, you're actions are very thought out, not irrational at all," Stark said, no infliction in his voice.

"Never appreciated your sarcasm," Nnoitra huffed, retracting his arm. "You!" he snarled at an unfortunate passing fraccion. "Fix that!"

Stark watched the little thing run away, clearly fearing for its life. Once of the nameless ones, just handy help around.

"Fuck you, Stark!" he shouted. _Off the deep end, if you ask me._ "You thinkin' you're so high an' mighty! I hope you die a painful blody death and go back to Hell where you bel-" He cut off very suddenly when he felt the cool metal of Stark's gun against his head. The light above them glowed dimly off the grey metal of the gun. Specially crafted, hand made for Stark to fit his expectations. One was loud as a cannon, one as silent as death. Perfectly balanced, light-weight, unending ammunition made from demonic power. Stark's power. None other could ever control it. One of a pair Stark had named Lilynette. Nnoitra's breathing was laboured and his eyes darted between the gun and Stark's still-hooded eyes. It was another thing Stark liked about the hat, and what he believed Hallibel secretly liked too. When used correctly, it made him even more intimidating.

"Careful who you talk to, Nnoitra," he said in a dangerously controlled voice. His coat billowed slightly from his sudden movements. But nothing else moved. Nnoitra's fear seemed to sing out to Stark's willing ears. His arm was steady, frighteningly so, and his body was still. Nnoitra, too, had gone absolutely still. Perhaps he believed he'd finally pushed his luck too far with the usual docile Espada. Thought there was no limit, maybe. But there was always a limit. "Never know when somebody's just," He cocked the gun. "Gonna," he placed his finger on the trigger. "Snap." He pulled the trigger and a loud, echoing shot rang out throughout the manor.

Silence.

Dead Silence.

Empty shot.

"Be thankful I ain't ready to snap yet," Stark said darkly before holstering the gun. He turned sharply and walked calmly out of the room, hands in pockets, eyes still covered. Every ounce the Numero Espada, Coyote Stark.

**XXX**

Neliel's hair flew horizontally to her side in the strong, rapidly growing wind that blew dust around her. She thought perhaps she may have looked like an ominous figure bringing omens of doom from some otherworldly place. Then again, perhaps she just looked like a woman caught in a small dust storm. She decided she liked that one better.

She stared at the quaint little town of Hueco Mundo. It was perfect, no one would ever think to come find her here.

Neliel stalked into the town, dressed in the clothes she'd woven from her own hair, unable to stay in her dead, white clothing any longer. It symbolised the Espada, something she no longer was. Something she had left behind to pursue a new life without the haunting white surrounding her. Without Nnoitra slowly helping her into Dissension.

The town was abuzz already at what she assumed was roughly eight thirty in the morning. She watched as people bustled by her, eager to get somewhere-which in itself was strange as the small place surely couldn't hold to much excitement or a desperate need to be anywhere, really- and children ran along the streets eagerly, playing with whatever toy their parents had bought them on some voyage into a larger center, for she doubted there was a toy store in this place. Animals were wary of her though, able to smell the strange, unnatural scent on her.

On the whole, a charming town. But she couldn't see a church anywhere.

There should have been a church somewhere. Las Noches, her safe haven, if she could find it.

Assuming it lay somewhere within a short running distance for her from the town, she traipsed into one of the larger shops in the town.

_Urahara Shoten. _A strange name, especially for such a small town. It had a Japanese flavour to the name. She wondered if the store saw much business with such an unorthodox name.

Her answer came when she walked in and saw many people bustling about at the store's various items. And she meant various. It looked like an all-purpose store but had the strangest assortment of things. There was aisles of hardware and others of candy, grocery aisles and toy aisles, clothes and medicine and home décor and other such nonsensical things that Neliel never thought she'd encounter in the same store. There were even tires lining the far wall.

_The proprietor must be a very strange man, _she decided. _Or have ADD._

She was about to find out.

"Welcome to my shop, Miss! Never seen you around here before and I see _everybody!_ My name is Urahara Kisuke, and I'd be happy to help you out if you need anything. Can I ask your name?"

All this in the span of roughly nine seconds. Neliel blinked before taking in the sight before her. A man, maybe a bit taller than her without counting her horns, stood before her with a grin that she swore would break a lesser man's face. He had what she assumed to be very bad blonde hat hair, pieces of which stuck out of a green and white striped bucket-like hat that overshadowed his eyes and made her wonder, if in another setting, he would be menacing. Maybe if he stopped speaking in such a trilling, childish way. And that was saying something as her own voice was very child-like. He wore a long green jacket that covered whatever shirt he was wearing and green pants, matching to his jacket and hat, falling to his ankles. He donned on his feet wooden clog sandals, an odd choice no matter the situation. She wondered if he styled his outfit to suit his hat. It seemed almost likely with his flippant, enthusiastic attitude and strange demeanor.

But she paused in her musings. He had asked her a question. _I think._

"My name is Neliel tu Oderschvank. Quite a mouthful," she said with a nervous laugh. This man made her uneasy, she just couldn't put a finger on why. Perhaps it was his clearly all-to-eccentric tendencies.

"Ah yes, quite, quite. Foreign then. German?" he asked, taking out a fan and waving it in front of his face as though it were normal to do so. Neliel regarded the fan for a moment and how it inhibited her from reading anything in his face. But that was not too terrible a loss. The man seemed harmless enough, of not slightly annoying.

"Yes, German," she said, nodding. "I'm surprised you got it right the first time. I get Danish or Russian sometimes," she mused, shrugging delicately.

"Oh, no doubt, no doubt," he said in an off-handish tone that stirred something in Neliel. A sense that there was more than the man was telling her. But she quelled it. Foolish notion, really. This man couldn't possibly know anything about her. "So what brings you to this small town?" he asked, his question unsuspicious. Anyone would ask the same.

"I'm actually here to see a church. Las Noches, I think it's called." She tapped her chin as if she were trying to recall it. How could she ever forget.

"Oh, that," he said with what she supposed was a smile. "Yes, yes, I know the place. Why there?" he asked, his head tilting to the side. _He seems to be a bit tilted in general._

But there was a problem with his question. She could hardly say she wished to escape demons on holy ground. Best to lie, then.

"My parents were married there. They've been dead for a while now, but I'd like to pay a visit to it," she explained with a sombre face. She hoped it was convincing.

His hand came up to grasp at his hat and it was pushed further down, completely blocking his right eye from her view. His left eye stared at her amusedly. Odd, the story had not meant to be funny.

"That's quite a trip just for that, but you must be very determined then, to have come all this way." His voice was different. No longer giddy or childish. It was very much dark and superior. Intelligent. _Knowing. _

"Yes," she continued, feeling a chill crawl up her spine. "It was quite a journey." She watched him closely.

"Aw, Nelly, so suspicious all the time." Neliel started, her eyes darting quickly to the left. It was that damn projection of Nnoitra again. He waved to her with two of his arms, leaning against a shelf of auto kits on display. His smile was easy, his eyes narrowed in glee. He had always loved to mess with her.

The shop-keepers voice brought her back.

"Strikes me as odd, though, that your parents got married there," he said, still looking at her in that way, that way she did not like. His eyes, too, darted once to where her illusion of Nnoitra stood, all too calm.

Neliel tried not to bristle or hiss in rage. It didn't take much to earn her wrath in overstressing situations like these. "And why is that?"

He chuckled softly and looked her dead in the eye, arms crossed, hat still down over one eye, the picture of ease. "Because there hasn't been a service or marriage there in over eighty years."

Neliel felt her eyes grow wide and her breath speed a bit.

"Couldn't think up a better lie, could ya babe," Nnoitra laughed from beside her.

"Shut up," she whispered.

"I beg your pardon?" Urahara said, craning his neck forward.

"Not you," she hissed, glaring at him.

"Ah. Who, then?" he asked. Neliel scowled and her eyes darted to a chortling Nnoitra not five feet away.

"No one," she said, turning away. "Can you tell me where the church is?" she asked, not turning back to look at him. "I would still like to see it." She heard a sigh from the strange blonde man.

"It's three miles south of here. Just follow the road, you'll get there in no time," he said, and she could hear a grin in his voice. "Won't you," he murmured, causing her to look back at him again.

"What?" she asked, sharp eyes trained on him.

"You know, you've got a nasty little piece of hair there," he said, pointing to a chunk of her bangs, always falling in her face. "I have one too," he continued, pointing to his forehead where a long mass of blonde fell in the middle of his face. Neliel lifted an eyebrow, unamused. What did this have to do with anything. Even her mind's Nnoitra seemed confused. "Mine happens because my hat is always in the wrong spot!" he laughed good-naturedly. "Always pushed that piece down." He stopped laughing. His fan was gone, Neliel hadn't noticed him put it away. _I should have noticed. Why didn't I?_ Something was very off about this man. Not right. Not _right._ "You kind of have the same problem, don't you. But," he said, his grin widening. "I assume you can't really control your hat, can you," he said, shrugging his shoulders before turning around to help other customers.

Neliel was frozen. Unable to do anything. Unable to process anything. _What…_

"Remember," his voice came again. "Three miles south. Like I said," he turned once more, his eyes somewhat malevolent, and far too knowing. "It shouldn't take you very long."

She backed up three steps. Three. She counted. Because she could not focus on anything else. Not even her vision of Nnoitra spoke. Or if he did, she couldn't hear him.

_Imposible, no no no no no-_ She was running, running fast. Faster than any human could. Running away from the strange man with the knowing look. Eyes to keen. _He couldn't have known. He _couldn't _have._ Running faster now that she was out of town. Running, running, running…

And she was there. In front of a little white picket fence surrounding a churchyard. A quaint place. Somewhere she could escape from the white and Nnoitra and those knowing eyes.

She slowly, slowly raised her hand to grasp the fence. Her hand seethed instantly and she hissed, immediately retracting her hand, holding it protectively. Could she even do this? Could she possibly go through with her plan if all of her would hurt so much?

"Neliel?" came a bored but questioning voice from the other side of the fence. Her head snapped up and she audibly gasped at the sight.

"Ulquiorra?" she breathed, an unbelieving whisper. "What are you-"

"Don't move, demon," came a gruff, resounding voice from behind her. Her eyes widened and her eyes darted to her neck where a shining silver blade was pressed against it. Where it pressed, her neck burned worse than her hand, steaming and she tried to recoil from the pain, backing up only to hit a broad, muscled back directly behind her. She turned her head slightly and caught sight of a young man with outrageous blue hair and startling, beautiful blue eyes. The color of the sky, she thought.

"Who are you?" she asked in another shaky whisper.

"You don't gotta know," he growled, his voice a pleasing baritone and his eyes piercing. Neliel felt a spike of fear go through her. He was no ordinary human.

"You can see me," she whispered, her body now shaking slightly. How was it possible? Then, that man, could he have seen her too?

Unimportant, she decided, right then with her life on the line.

"You better explain why you're here. And make it good." He pressed the sharp side of the blade of what she assumed to be the Zanpakuto harder against her neck. "No second chances."

**XXX**

**AN: **Another chapter, and about time! But keep in mind I'm super busy. But I'll still try to update regularly.

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra have loving sex! I figure it's sort of an end to one serious conflict in the story. Grimmjow and Ulquiorra are officially together and not having any doubts. Well, not really.

However, one good plot end begins another, so enter Nel. She finally gets to Las Noches! Which means the beginning of other plot devices. And I have to decide what those are. I've got a few ideas for her but we'll just have to see what I come out with. This is an adventure for me too. And she met Urahara! Not exactly a happy meet but hey, thems the breaks. To be clear, Urahara can't actually see Nel's demon form, but he can sense she is a demon and he could sorta tell by her hair that she probably had horns and he knew she was fast by her reiatsu. He's a pro, after all.

Ok, so Stark. I haven't played around with Stark at all and I wanted to delve a bit more into one of the other characters, give some character development to someone I thought would be interesting. So I chose Stark, who I consider the badass, gunslinging, super calm and totally in control cowboy of the Espada. I figure I could have some fun with him, he's fun to write for and I actually really enjoyed writing for him. Sarcastic, lazy, and has a deadly temper you'd never guess, I kinda sympathise with him.

But if I did a good job or not is up to you to decide. Remember, if you wanna get more of a certain character into the story, just let me know. I'm very open to suggestions or ideas!

Well, read, review, and give me lots of love. And I thank you all whole-heartedly for your awesome comments that make me want to keep writing this story with all the passion it deserves!


	11. In Your Eyes

**Chapter 11**

Grimmjow was usually pretty relaxed about things. Empty milk carton in the fridge? Big deal. Furniture pushed around? Whatever. Room too hot or cold? Get a blanket or get naked. One fucking powerful demon shows up at his door unannounced alone and radiates _I run this now, bitch_? Just get naked.

Second fucking powerful demon shows up at his door unannounced and radiates _I run this now, bitch?_ Yea, heads were gonna roll.

Her stance was strong, unbending. She was here with a purpose.

_She reminds me of Ulquiorra._

A slight wind had picked up, brushing back his hair. The strands in front of his face tickled his forehead but it was easy to ignore. He'd dealt with it all his life after all.

Grimmjow supposed she could have been beautiful. Long, luscious green hair that fell in windblown waves down her back, longer than her midriff-baring shirt. His sharp, all-seeing eyes caught the similarities between her hair and the fabric she donned. He briefly wondered why she would sew her clothes from her own hair, but decided he would ask later, when he wasn't standing in a deadlock with something more than capable of ripping out his intestines at a moment's notice.

Her body was proportioned like, Grimmjow could think of no other comparison, a porn star. Her thin, delectable waist, her rack the size of her head, each, and an ass that would probably have men everywhere crying. Except, obviously for the ram tail flipping irately and the fact that her legs were fucking goat legs.

_Ram legs,_ he corrected himself. Kisuke wouldn't get that wrong.

_Kind of a loss,_ he thought, re-examining her. He expected she'd have her pick of men if she were normal. Human. But she wasn't. She was just another monster. One he should have disposed of without a moment's hesitation.

Should have.

Not did.

_Hesitation,_ he thought, his eyes glancing over his shoulder to get an eyeful of his ever-stoic lover. _Suppose it's not all bad._

She shifted slightly, her back still against him. She had nowhere to run, encased by both him and that oh-so dangerous blade.

"Did I say you could move?" he growled, making sure that when he caught her eyes it was a piercing blue glare, one that had frozen many a demon.

Her own stunning greyish eyes narrowed but otherwise she showed no reaction.

"Humans have no manners. Is that how you address a lady?" she said, tossing her hair back against his face in a superior fashion. Grimmow felt his anger overtake him and he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling up and twisting around so her front was facing him and her neck was clearly bared to him. He put the tip of the blade against the hollow of her throat and pushed in a bit, hearing the satisfying squelch of blood coming out around burned, abused flesh.

"You ain't no lady," Grimmjow said with a smirk. He chuckled mirthlessly as he threw her against the fence, burning her hands where she tried to touch. She cowered away but Grimmjow was there again, pulling her up by the forearm. "Enough of this. What the fuck do ya want?"

Neliel shrugged him off, backing up a step. Her eyes were all but glowing in venomous anger.

"Enough, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said, coming to stand beside him. "She is no threat to us."

Neliel suddenly hissed in quite a demonic fashion at Ulquiorra, teeth bared, eyes narrow, body bent into a protective crouch. Grimmjow sneered at her before looking back at his mate.

"Who are you to say that, Ulquiorra? I am only one position lower than you, and things change!" And she lunged. Grimmjow rolled his eyes. She wouldn't last two seconds against his lover.

Neliel's hand came up to punch Ulquiorra square in the face, trying to use her speed to her advantage, clearly. However, Ulquiorra didn't bat an eye as he caught her fist and propelled her back where she was thrown onto holy ground, unable to use her powers any longer.

"Do not make this worse for yourself, Neliel. Now why are you here?" Ulquiorra asked, easily walking back onto the grounds. Not even in his mind was he the least bit fazed by his simmering skin.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said instead, getting up. Or, trying to. Her legs buckled, unused to the strain of the holy ground.

"That was not an answer," he pointed out, standing directly in front of her but offering her no help. "How pathetic you look, unable to even get up." His gaze was as cold as ice. Grimmjow looked on from outside the fence with a strange mix of awe and revulsion. _This was Ulquiorra before he came to me._

"Some of us can't regenerate so easily," she snapped, pushing her shaky body into a standing position. Even in her weakened state, Grimmjow was able to recognize the fire in her eyes and the strength underlying it. Ulquiorra was either oblivious to it or did not care. He was willing to bet it was the latter.

"Then you have no business coming to holy ground," he said easily, pushing her slightly and she crumbled down again. "Trash. What good are you without common sense?" he walked past her, intent on leaving her to cower in pain on the ground.

"I had no choice!" she shouted after him, regaining her footing again.

"That is a lie and we both know it," Ulquiorra stated calmly. "There are many choices. Find another place to hide or return to the Espada. It is simple." He continued walking, not sparing her a second glance.

Grimmjow watched as the demon tried desperately to pick herself up and leave, unable to handle the strain put on her unholy body. Grimmjow sighed and walked over to her. He outstretched his hand helpfully.

"Ya look kinda pathetic down there," he said, extending his hand further. "It probably just takes some getting' used to. And you're probably weak. Come on, we'll get ya somethin' to eat and hopefully that'll help."

Neliel was staring at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had.

"Take it or leave it, demon." She looked so utterly confused that Grimmjow wondered if she'd ever been shown compassion before. _Probably not by a human who knew what she was._

"Why are you helping me?" she asked, her shock written clearly in her voice.

"Because life ain't that simple anymore. It ain't all black and white. Turns out there are shades in-between. I'm startin' to think green is the brightest one, though." He could no longer see Ulquiorra, presumably having gone into the house for a cup of tea or something similar. _He likes his tea._ But he didn't have to see Ulquiorra to have his eyes sear his soul.

If she wondered what he was talking about, she didn't press it. Her hand slowly reached up towards Grimmjow's, inching forward.

"Would ya hurry it up, ram? I ain't got all say," he said impatiently, irately tapping a foot. A small smile spread across her face then.

"Neliel," she corrected, taking his hand and hoisting herself back up.

"Nah," he said, a smirk on his face. "I'll call ya Nel." He walked ahead of her into the house. "So," he asked conversationally. "What ya runnin' from?"

**XXX**

Ulquiorra sat in the lazy boy chair, eyeing Neliel with enraptured attention. Mostly because Grimmjow was sitting directly next to her on the couch, and far to close at that. She was still an Espada, or at the very most a recently defected one, and he did not trust another powerful demon around his new mate. And no, it made no difference to him if Grimmjow could protect himself or not. He was close enough to her that she could strike out and tear his head from his shoulders without him really registering it. And after the fact, he most definitely would not.

Even the mental image had him involuntarily clenching his fingers around the arm of the chair and his mind skittered away from such a gory outcome. Neliel would pay dearly if she was to try something like that.

His only consolation was her weakened state. She was slower now, unable to use her full speed and almost none of her strength on holy ground. Add to the fact that she, as stated, could not regenerate as he could and was therefore in a weaker than average state while he retained most of his strength and was already used to it, she was easy prey for him if she dared harm Grimmjow.

Neliel's fingers wound and unwound themselves around each other, her eyes shifting from the black coffee table dominating the center of the room to the TV perched directly across from her, then to the window where only blinding morning light could be seen filtering in through its east facing position and Ulquiorra recognized these actions as nervous fidgeting. She was too aware, too ready to defend herself that any little provocation may set her off. And Grimmjow was just too close.

Perhaps life with the Espada had made him something akin to paranoid. Not that he would ever think twice about any other, no, that was not like him. Then again, taking a mate was not like him either. At any rate, living with them was always unpredictable and usually bloody. He frowned deeply. He could hardly say he was any different. He had as much blood on his hands as any of the others. He just preferred not to play with his opponents after the initial fight.

He noticed Grimmjow's questioning eyes on him, concern flashing somewhere in them and through the mate bond. _Ah, he is feeling all this as well from me._

Ulquiorra just shook his head slightly before redirecting his attention back to the unstable demon beside him. Unstable because it was clear she had started to Descend already.

"Alright, _Nel,"_ he said, testing the name on his tongue. It was clear he had other, less pleasant names he wished to call her in mind but was using some restraint. Perhaps the experience with Ulquiorra had softened Grimmjow, and Ulquiorra found he did not like that. Grimmjow should not be so readily accepting of demons. He should want to kill them all. _He should want to kill me._ "Why are you here? And no half-assed answers or I skewer you," he snapped, the blade gripped tightly in his right hand, pointed at her unwaveringly.

"I couldn't stand it anymore," she said flatly, staring straight ahead at the black screen of the TV. But she wasn't seeing it, not really. "The _white," _she hissed, as though it was some sort of atrocity. Ulquiorra's left eyebrow peaked in interest.

"White," Grimmjow repeated, staring at her oddly.

"Yes, the blankness, the emptiness, the nothing of everything," she said, her hand running through her hair in a sign of discomfort. "I was white, turning white, being sucked in." She drummed her fingers on her leg now. "No escaping if it got me, all that _white._ So I ran." Her foot tapped, her right arm twitching in a succession of three times. "Thought it'd be safe, but maybe it already got me," she said quickly, quicker than before. Like the words couldn't wait to pass her lips. The lips themselves couldn't seem to decide if they should turn up or down. Her eyes, though, remained wide and unblinking, staring into nothing. Perhaps into white. Her head suddenly tipped to the left and she looked at Grimmjow with a big grin. "I think it got me, because I keep seeing him, and he's white. Are you white? You look… like you were." She frowned at that, her eyebrows pulling together. She raised her stiff right arm, unbending and straining, with her wrist hanging lazily on the end, pointing at him. "How'd you stop it? Like you were white, but aren't. Blue maybe, because blue is all over you." She was laughing in-between her words now. Her eyes turned to Ulquiorra then. "But you are, aren't you." She hummed idly, turning her body so she could bend her neck even more, as though looking at Ulquiorra slanted could help. "So white, always so white." She was screeching now, her laughs peeling through the room. Grimmjow looked like he was staring at the very embodiment of madness, confused and frightened. "White, white, white, white, white, white, white-" and on and on she went.

Grimmjow smacked her then. Right in the center of the forehead. With the hilt of Pantera. She slumped onto the ground, unconscious. Ulquiorra watched her, unfeeling. He shook his head again and sighed tiredly.

"I blame you," Ulquiorra said, his eyes returning to Grimmjow. "You and your bleeding heart."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and walked over to him, standing beside him as they both observed the unconscious woman on the couch. "We can't just throw her out," he sighed, blue eyebrows pinched together in determination.

"I see no reason why not," Ulquiorra countered. He lightly sipped on the tea beside him, absently glancing into its swirling depths as he stirred it lightly. "I see many reasons to do just that, in fact," he continued, taking another sip.

"You don't see it, do you," Grimmjow murmured, causing Ulquiorra to pause in his stirring and glace up at him.

"See what?" he asked, though the question felt forced. He had always hated it when people backed him into a wall with a question, making him ask. Unless it was some sort of game in bed, which it sometimes was and he would admit to enjoying that thoroughly, he would prefer others to merely state their minds, none of these half hidden, unoriginal thoughts while trying to pry another question out. It was so needlessly annoying.

"Well, just some of the things you do and say, ya know?" he said, looking between Neliel and him. "Like the way you're always twitching or deathly still. Lot like her. You both seem to be pretty easily distracted. And her eyes…" he trailed off, probably unsure of how to phrase it. But Ulquiorra could hardly blame him as he didn't believe the man had a long repertoire of words at his disposal to choose from. "They're a lot like yours when you first got here."

Now Ulquiorra was confused at that. His eyes? What did that have to do with anything? Grimmjow heaped compliments onto him about his eyes, often praising it as the thing he loved and admired most about his physical body. That's not to say there was a lot of options involving beauty where his physique was concerned, but that was beside the point. To compare his eyes, the ones Grimmjow seemed to adore if his own eyes and their mate bond was any indication, to hers, manic and wide for most of their meeting, was an insult.

And it sparked a hint of jealousy in him.

Were his eyes so easily copied onto another face? Were his eyes no better than hers? And if so, what about him physically could hold Grimmjow to him?

Neliel was beautiful in the demon world. Graceful, elegant, powerful. She was what demons wanted. She had far more human characteristics than Ulquiorra did. He had one of the most satanic appearances of demons he had met. If his eyes could no longer hold Grimmjow to him, what could?

He felt anger boil inside of him. All the more reason for her to leave, then. Grimmjow would return to his senses and stay with him, unable to make comparisons to her eyes ever again. If he had to, he would tie Grimmjow up and never let him go, never to look into another's eyes again. The anger turned to a possessive fury and he felt his eyes draw towards Grimmjow's again.

Maybe he would tie him up anyways.

"You're giving me a headache," Grimmjow muttered, flicking Ulquiorra's forehead. "What is going on in your head? Pick a mood already or you'll drive us both nuts!"

Oh yes, he had forgotten Grimmjow could probably feel all of that. "My apologies." He set the tea down and stood up, directly in front of Grimmjow. "Shall I make it up to you then?" He dropped to his knees and had Grimmjow's jean's zipper already halfway down before Grimmjow caught his wrist.

"Oi! There's a chick here! What if she wakes up and we're in the middle?"

Ulquiorra paused, thinking about it. If she were to see that Grimmjow was already claimed, and by someone stronger than her, then she would not dare to encroach on his territory. In fact, the situation was ideal.

"That is fine," Ulquiorra said, resuming his work.

"Hey! No it ain't!" He grabbed one of Ulquiorra's horns and yanked him away.

"You're quite forceful today. Perhaps you need something more than this. Would you like to chain me up?" he asked. Grimmjow looked at him, flabbergasted. Ulquiorra used his confusion to slowly undo the zipper while he was distracted.

"What the fuck is going on in your head!" he growled, glaring down at Ulquiorra. He had a fairly good grip on his horn so Ulquiorra assumed he would have to make him lose his strength before he would actually get to do this.

"Do you want to be chained up?" Actually, that was preferred. Then Ulquiorra could do whatever he wanted in front of that one he would dare compare his eyes to. He smirked as he popped the button of Grimmjow's jeans open. Another time, then. He would take care of this first.

Grimmjow jumped back when he felt Ulquiorra's cold claw on his suddenly bare skin. He growled menacingly at him, somewhat animalistic really. Ulquiorra just rolled his eyes and stood back up, walking the three steps Grimmjow had jumped and getting back on his knees.

"How long are we going to play this game?" he asked, letting his hands wander over Grimmjow's swiftly hardening nether regions.

"Not here, bastard!" he snapped and pulled away again. Grimmjow redid up his pants and frowned at Ulquiorra before turning to tend to the fallen demon.

Ulquiorra panicked. He did not show it, of course, but he panicked all the same. Grimmjow was choosing her over him. _Her, _who he had just met that day. That _hour._ His eyes narrowed and he used sonido to appear in front of him, blocking his way to Neliel.

Grimmjow froze and a menacing look appeared on his features. "What now?" he snapped, moving to walk around him. Ulquiorra stuck an arm out to block him again.

_Notice me. Look at me. Take me into your arms and whisper into my ear of love and forever._

But he didn't. Grimmjow just pushed past his outstretched arm and readjusted Neliel from her uncomfortable looking position, slumped oddly on the couch, to a lying position.

Ulquiorra didn't want to see. He turned around and walked to the kitchen, not seeing Grimmjow's concerned face following his movements.

He poured himself another cup of tea. Ulquiorra needed to calm down somehow.

"What's on your mind, Ulqui?" Ulquiorra didn't turn around. He merely added the water and continued on.

"Must you insist on using that ridiculous nickname?" he asked half-heartedly, moving to drink his tea at the table and still not looking at Grimmjow.

"Ulquiorra…" he sighed, standing behind the chair and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Ulquiorra, who had been about to take a sip, froze in place before putting down the cup and placing his own hands over Grimmjow's. "You can tell me," he murmured in Ulquiorra's ear, gently kissing it. If Ulquiorra had the ability, he was certain he would have blushed unabashedly.

"I am surprised that you would heap attention onto Neliel when she has only been here not an hour. Beyond that, she is a highly unstable demon. Should you not be wary of her instead of helpful?" Ulquiorra said, running his finger around the rim of the cup.

"You're jealous," Grimmjow chuckled, ruffling his hair. Ulquiorra batted his hand away in annoyance.

"I am irritated," he corrected, eyes dark and piercing. "Irritated that you would so easily compare my eyes, which you claim to love so much about me, to hers. Will any eyes do for you?"

Grimmjow blinked in surprise before letting out a bark of laughter. "You're cute," he cooed playfully, nipping gently at his pointed ear. Ulquiorra frowned but Grimmjow could tell he was trying to hold back his appreciation of the action.

"I had thought that this was not the time for such activities," Ulquiorra reminded him though he made no attempts to escape from Grimmjow's slightly too sharp teeth. He even leaned into Grimmjow a bit, cursing himself for being too forgiving.

"Hmm," Grimmjow murmered, moving to kiss and nip gently down the back of Ulquiorra's neck. "Maybe I'll have to rethink that," he said, massaging his shoulders. Ulquiorra rolled his shoulders in Grimmjow's hands and sighed blissfully. "Can't have you doubting me, after all."

"Mm, I suppose not," he said dreamily. Ulquiorra really didn't know what he was saying, or what was going on for that matter. Grimmjow's strong, capable hands were magic, they could make him forget the world if he wanted. _I'd forget the world if he asked._

"So then, I am not just replaceable, not something you can rest easy with believing that there is good in the demon's race?" he questioned, his eyes shut but his ears open, ready for an answer that could potentially crush him.

Grimmjow's hands and lips were suddenly gone from his skin and his chair was whirled around to face the deadly serious face of his lover. _Mate, I suppose. _His arms were on either side of the chair, forming a barrier between Ulquiorra and everything else. It was only them, the way it should be. There was a blue, crystalline fire burning in those eyes and they captivated Ulquiorra, making it impossible to turn away.

"I never intended to fall in love with you. Never anyone, actually. I thought it was impossible. I'd been abandoned so many times, not all of them by choice. I thought I was immune to love, or at least it evaded me. And then you show up at my door with your big green eyes and your high and mighty attitude and a heart, something I had thought a demon could never have, and such an amazing heart. You were ready to go against everything to become human, to strive to love and care and be loved and cared for in return. How could I not notice you? How could I not love you?" His face was so close now, the proximity had Ulquiorra's long dead heart beating once again. "How could I not love you?" he repeated in a whisper and kissed the hollow of his throat, a soft, lingering kiss. Ulquiorra's head tipped back and his eyes closed again, wondering how much more his heart could take before it simply exploded.

Grimmjow's arms wrapped around his too thin waist and hefted him out of the chair, sitting him on the table. And then they were kissing and it was simply mind-blowing. It was passionate and hungry and a bit rushed but both knew they couldn't hold out for very long. They were too eager to love each other again, to prove it physically with what was in their hearts.

Their clothes were gone in seconds. It was as it was supposed to be, with nothing between them. If Ulquiorra could, he would crawl into Grimmjow's skin and stay there forever.

And while he realised that this was borderline disturbing and not at all healthy, he decided that nothing about being a demon was actually right, so why worry about it?

Their tongues clashed and their teeth scraped against each other and Ulquiorra felt Grimmjow pushing his back against the table, climbing over him. Ulquiorra wished he would stay there for good. Grimmjow broke the kiss, pulling away with a pant and raising three fingers to Ulquiorra's mouth. Ulquiorra raised his head and caught them before they were fully lowered to him and felt Grimmjow's manhood twitch against him. The show of impatience and eagerness excited him. _We both want this._

Ulquiorra did not take his time but made sure to do it well all the same. Grimmjow removed his fingers, never having taken his eyes off his lover, and moved them to his backside. Ulquiorra wrapped his legs around Grimmjow's waist and propped himself up for Grimmjow to have easier access.

Grimmjow kissed him again and Ulquiorra immediately let him take control. He felt Grimmjow circle his entrance and finally push one finger in. Ulquiorra purred his consent and pushed back against the finger, urging him on. His arms worked along Grimmjow's back, massaging the bunching muscle there and relieving him of the stress that never belonged on his broad, strong shoulders.

_Forget about everything but me._

Grimmjow put the second finger in, pumping and stretching and scissoring and searching, searching for that one spot that would make Ulquiorra-

"Ah, Grimmjow," he cried out in ecstasy, his legs clamping harder around his waist and his fingers digging into his back deep enough to leave bruises.

"I know Ulqui, I know." When had that nickname decided to stick? But then it didn't matter because Grimmjow had added his third finger and was torturing that spot for all he was worth and Ulquiorra could not stop his keening, gasping noises.

"Grimmjow, enough. I-ah, I need you," he panted, cupping his face and looking Grimmjow directly in his eyes.

"How much?" he whispered, pushing harder and rubbing slowly.

Ulquiorra choked back a gasp but attempted to answer. "More than an-Ah!-anything. Please Grimmjow, take me now!" He arched his body into his mates and let out a soft whimpering sound. "I need you, Grimmjow," he whispered in his ear, burying his face in the strong, corded neck before him. "So, so much. Please, Grimmjow. I _need _you. I love you."

It was all Grimmjow could take. He pulled his fingers out and positioned himself in front of Ulquiorra's twitching, waiting entrance.

"I don't think I can hold back," he warned, his arms even beginning to shake with the strain of it all.

"Give it all to me," Ulquiorra cried out, biting lightly on the mating mark on Grimmjow's neck.

Grimmjow thrust in without abandon and pounded into him mercilessly. Ulquiorra cried out harshly, half in pleasure, half in pain. And then Grimmjow hit that spot and it was all pleasure.

Ulquiorra whipped his head back and had to bite back a scream. It felt so _good._

"Don't you dare hold back on me, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow growled at him, pushing a particular long, deep stroke into him and Ulquiorra could not hold back his scream of ecstasy.

"Grimmjow, I'm gonna-I can't-" And he came, unable to handle all the pleasure circulating in his body.

"Yessss," Grimmjow hissed and came inside of him in the next few thrusts, collapsing on top of his beautiful demon mate.

Neither could move and neither wanted to. Entangled in a most primitive way, it felt so unreal but so good that Ulquiorra was afraid to move.

But Grimmjow had to break the mood.

"We just fucked on the table," he said, a tired laugh vibrating through him to Ulquiorra. Even the demon smiled a bit.

"So it would seem." He looked to where the kitchen and living room were connected. Just half a wall separated them from Neliel. _My claim has been staked._ Grimmjow shifted so he was no longer lying on top of Ulquiorra, but cuddling him against his side.

"Hope she didn't hear us," he mumbled, stroking Ulquiorra's hair.

"I disagree," Ulquiorra said, pushing himself flush against his lover.

"Freakin' kink," he muttered.

"I suppose so. Can I chain you up next time?"

"What is with that?"

"I like the thought of you chained to my bed, bending under my will and mine to do with as I please."

"Why a chain? Why not just a tie?"

"So you can't run away."

"Why would I run? I ain't no sissy!"

"If I chain you up, I will use the advantage completely."

"Like torture? You would actually torture me?"

"I would ride you and order you not to come until I have at least three times. If you disobeyed, I would put a cock ring on you and touch myself in front of you, begging for you. Out of reach, or course."

"… I fucking love you."

**XXX**

"Can I have my hat back now?" Stark asked with a tired sigh, knowing too well he would not be getting it back until he got a sustained verbal thrashing, and he was resigned to it. It didn't mean he couldn't try though.

"So you can hide behind it and fall asleep while I'm talking? Hardly a smart move on my part." Hallibel was a beautiful demon, cut throat as they came and had a silent but deadly fighting style. Subtle but effective and few could get under her skin. It was just too bad for her that she was mated to one that could.

"Please?" he tried, resting his head on his hand, his arm propped on the arm of the chair. They were sitting in their shared room in the manor house. Though both had various rooms at their disposal, many of which they used for personal gains and uses, they both spent the most time in the one they deigned as both of theirs. Unfortunately, it was not as pleasant as one would think. They spent half of that time arguing, though it couldn't really be called arguing when it was just Hallibel berating Stark all day.

Even with that, the sex was worth it.

Hallibel had an insatiable sexual appetite, something most probably wouldn't figure if they looked at her or even knew her. She looked and acted to cold and stony to really have any hidden lusty desires.

Which was fine with Stark. He was more than happy to help her out when he wasn't tired.

It's just… he was usually tired.

And who could blame him, really? He had to put up with her all the time. And she was always a whirlwind of activity. Nothing would ever get done if she didn't do it or at least start it.

"Make those puppy dog eyes at someone who they'll work on. You know me better than that." Stark sighed again and let his head fall back over the head rest of the chair.

"But Haliiiii," he whined, cocking his head so he could watch her with one eye as her reactions, no matter how small, were always amusing.

"You are hopeless," she snapped, her eyes piercing.

"And yet you continue to hold out hope. What does that say about you?" He clicked his tongue and sat back up, smiling at her lazily. Actually, there was very little that he did that wasn't lazily.

"That I have very poor choice in mates," she huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Aw babe, you always gotta be so mean?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the chair. It wasn't that he was impatient (though he could think of a long list of things he'd rather be doing), it was simply a habit, something to keep his attention when Hallibel couldn't.

"Enough of this," she hissed, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look her in the eye. "Tell me exactly what you did wrong."

Stark hummed in thought. "I shot one of Szayel's deformed experiments," he said, grinning.

"No," she said flatly. "You shot Szayel."

"That's what I said," Stark shrugged, his lazy grin still in place.

"Where did you shoot him?" she asked testily.

"Where most of us have been telling him to shove it for a while," he responded, his tone playful. Going by the vein starting to throb in Hallibel's forehead, she was not feeling so playful.

"Specifically," she said, her patience waning though Stark assumed he was the only one who could tell.

"His little fairy ass," Stark said, grin growing wider.

"And why is that a bad thing?" she asked, her voice sharp. Stark knew he should probably answer her seriously, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Because his scream can shatter glass," he chuckled. His grin didn't even drop when he heard a disturbing growling coming from Hallibel's throat.

"No," she said, her teeth clenching slightly.

"Because red and pink don't match," he tried, watching a second vein join up with the first, not quite as big but maybe pulsing more. It was sort of fun to watch.

"No," she said again, her tone so flat it could put Ulquiorra to shame.

"Because I should've shot Nnoitra instead," he concluded.

"No." Her patience was gone. It would probably only take one little push…

"Because he won't be able to catch his test toys when they run naked down the hallways, because if he has to operate on himself one more time he may finally go through with the sex change, because he may discover he likes holding his sore ass way too much, because-"

Hallibel picked him up and threw him across the room. He hit the wall with a thud and fell onto the bed. "_Because,_" she hissed in anger, "If the Espada look any more incompetent, we will lose any hold on power we once had. Everything will go to hell! We'll be disorganized and unready for any attack. And then the seers will start picking us off one by one. Then what, Stark?"

Stark sighed, rubbing his sore head which had taken the brunt of the hit. "Alright, alright, I get it," he said, holding his hands up in surrender and getting off the bed. "I know," he said, serious for once. "We are not at our strongest right now, losing Neliel only adds to that. I know we have to get her back."

Hallibel seemed displeased at that conclusion. "What, you don't want her back?" Stark asked. "You women, you can never make up your minds."

She didn't dignify that with an answer.

"I merely did not anticipate the effect her leaving would have."

This was true. Demons everywhere had begun to stray from the Espada's power. Their ultimate power of the great Ten Espada, the strongest demons on the planet, had dwindled down to four. Two by choice. It was a terrible example. Demons were disobeying and going against them. Whatever Neliel's reason for leaving, and they all knew what it was, they needed her back. After they found her, they would redouble their efforts into finding Ulquiorra. There was no other option.

"If we don't find her, the whole world will fall to anarchy," Stark said, scratching his head absently. "We make sure demons are hidden, don't cause a fuss. Without us, they would do as they pleased and the seers would start arming themselves again."

The seers had been less than a threat as of late, choosing to hide and live normal lives as opposed to fighting. It suited Stark fine. If the demons stayed underground, and therefore so did the seers, then they didn't have to go back to hell. Everybody wins.

Except the people they killed but as long as they kept that on a low scale, they were okay.

"We will find her," Hallibel sighed. "But first we must stop stupid acts around the Espada as is." She looked pointedly at Stark.

"Whatever you say Hali." Which translated to, 'maybe.'

It was the best she would get out of him and she recognized that.

"Can I have my hat back now?"

Hallibel sighed and tossed him the cowboy hat. He easily swiped it from the air and put it back in its rightful place.

"I mean it Stark. No more of these acts. The Espada can't afford to look any worse than they already-"

Stark sat down and strapped himself in for a long talk, pulling the hat over his eyes as Hallibel paced and ranted, not really looking at him.

Prime hat time.

**XXX**

Neliel groaned as her eyes fluttered open. She gazed at the wood panel ceiling, such a nice earthy colour, unable to really get up. She felt so lucid, like she'd been dreaming something strange-

Wood panel ceiling?  
>She shot up and looked around. She was currently sitting on a black couch, stiff but not uncomfortable as you sunk into it, in a large room with the walls painted a warm brown as well, accenting the wood finish on the floor. It was so homey.<p>

And definitely not the Espada manor.

"Ya look worried, Nelly. Don't remember?"

Neliel looked over to see Nnoitra- _No, not Nnoitra, just a memory, just a projection-_sitting in a comfy black chair that matched the couch.

"I remember," she said softly, the day's events flooding back to her. She was on holy ground, specifically the Las Noches church grounds. No wonder she felt like she'd been stuffed in a roaster.

"Oh, you're up," came a deep, pleasant voice from beside her. A man stood there, holding what looked like a burger in his hand. She assumed it was a burger because she'd never eaten human food and wasn't really familiar with the terminology.

But enough about that.

The man was gorgeous. Model gorgeous. _Angel _gorgeous. Teal blue hair was set in a styled mess atop his head, some stray strand falling over his brow. His body was muscled to perfection with huge pecs and what she knew to be ripped abs beneath the casual flannel shirt, a grease stain on the shoulder, which only added to the essence of such a _man._ But his eyes captivated her. The blue was so truly blue she wondered if she'd ever seen colour before right then.

She'd never actually had the chance to really look at him until then, but it was certainly a view.

"Don't matter, sugar," the apparition said. "You already got a mate."

She paid it not mind.

"Name's Grimmjow Jaegerjaques," he said, holding his hand out to her. She grasped it thankfully.

"Neliel tu Oderschvank," she introduced herself formerly.

"So, Nel, you already know Ulquiorra." He motioned behind him and sure enough, there was the elusive bat demon. "No introductions needed then."

"Ulquiorra, why are you here?" she asked in utter disbelief.

"You first, Nel," Grimmjow said, snapping his fingers in her face and redirecting her attention.

She sighed and nodded. It only made sense. She owed them an explanation.

"Well, there are two things you should probably know before anything else and feel free to judge me or throw me out depending on these two things. I must say them though, as they are crucial to why I am here."

Ulquiorra stared at her unblinkingly, Grimmjow nodding for her to continue.

"I have an abusive mate who I am beginning to believe will eventually kill me and I have begun to Descend." She watched their reactions, Ulquiorra seeming unsurprised but wary and Grimmjow seeming very surprised but interested.

"Take from that what you will, but I guess it all starts and ends with Nnoitra."

**XXX**

**AN:**You know, when I started this story, I had no idea it would turn out to be so long! Go figure. But anyways, this is chapter 11 and it has been a while so I hope you all understand. Finals are a BITCH! But I digress.

Neliel explaining all her problems would have been sort of redundant so I've decided to skip over them. You've all seen the problems anyways so you know why she left and what's going on in her head. Assume she held nothing back. She's not decietful, after all.

And of course I couldn't resist some GrimmUlqui smut. We've got the bedroom, outside, the kitchen... what'll it be next time? Who knows, might be back to the bedroom or might be sneaky sex now that Nel is there! Anyways I had to show that Grimmjow isn't the only insecure one in the relationship. And I just can't resist a bit of angsty drama.

And I need my stretch of comedy so enter my dear Stark! I really do love him. Why do I make all of the quiet characters secret kinky sex freaks? I do not know. Anyways, there was a serious plot point there. That being that they all have to go after Nel now or else it'll be anarchy! That's right, without the Espada elite, demons would run amock and kill lots of people because seers are hiding. I've actually got plans for this down the road so stay tuned for that.

I got a request to check in on Yoruichi and I'm sorry I didn't but hear me out. I've got a lot going on, with a lot of different plots and subplots happening and adding Yoruichi makes me think it seems like I'm jumping around too much. Besides, Grimmjow has no idea where she is and thinks she sort of abandonned him, and we're all supposed to agonize along with the characters and their inner issues so showing Yoruichi may take away a bit from that. If you think I'm wrong though and believe adding something on Yoruichi would add to the story and make it better, please let me know!

Can demons have kids? Good question. For this story's purposes, no. Maybe they can and that would be an interesting point to go off of, but when I thought up the story idea, kids weren't really a part of it. So, maybe it's a possibility but they won't be having kids so I'm very very sorry if any of you were looking forward to that.

As always, please read and review because it really does encourage me. I thank you whole-heartedly for your reviews and time and give lots of love to all of my amazing readers and reviewers because you guys are the ones making this story possible. I'm always looking to improve so help me out! Thank you thank you thank you to all who take the time to read my story and I hope I don't dissapoint. I'll talk to you all next time!


	12. Suspended Before the Fall

**Chapter 12**

Neliel sat under a nicely placed willow tree outside the church grounds. Such an oddly placed willow as there were no others. You could see for miles and miles around and it was all just flat land, grass or farmland. In the distance you could tell there was a town, the buildings slightly blurry against the horizon. The church rose up before her as she sat facing it. Truthfully, it was a lovely view. But she may have been biased. After all, she was looking at a new, free life.

"Never free from me, though," came the chuckle from beside her. She glanced over, Nnoitra sitting facing north while she faced east, the direction of the church. She had not been able to stand being on holy ground for too long. She supposed she would get used to it. Perhaps she could stay at that strange blonde man's, Urahara's place from time to time.

Grimmjow had told her he was his adoptive father. She didn't know who he was talking about at first as she did not know the man as "fucking Kisuke." Grimmjow certainly had a way with words.

"You're not really here, though," she reminded them both, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. She had told Grimmjow that she hallucinated of Nnoitra and that, should he see her talking to herself, she was actually only talking to a projection of her abusive mate. Clearly that was _so_ much better.

He'd taken it surprisingly well. Grimmjow had just nodded, shrugged, and said she could have the spare room. He said he found her no threat as, though she was acting strange and insane at times, she probably wouldn't pose a danger to them if the worst she did was complain about white, pass out every now and again and have idle talk with visions of people she knew.

Neliel wondered if there was something wrong with him for taking it so well.

Ulquiorra had not been so sure. After Grimmjow had left to do… Grimmjow things, Ulquiorra had made sure she knew the score.

_"Neliel, there is something you ought to know." Ulquiorra had been quiet through her whole story, never questioning and seeming to even understand. But, perhaps she had been wrong._

_"What?" she asked, wary of him. The Espada had always been wary of Ulquiorra in general as he had, to some degree, been a separate entity, even from them. His blank, empty nature could put the most fearless demon on edge and his quick dispatching of enemies had most, even those above him, fearing him. Even his appearance was unnaturally frightening, even for a demon. His inverted eyes and deformed body, the protrusions like his horns and wings and tail, his claws and the markings on his eyes could bring any and all to their knees without doing anything. Therefore, she was wary of him._

_"Should you ever hurt him, a scratch or a bruise, anything so much as a paper cut from you, whether by accident, on purpose or in one of your fits, I will not hesitate to kill you. Should any harm come to him from you, I will brutally murder you and I will take my time, make no mistake. Do you understand?" His voice was so dark, so menacing and yet the same, his bored and blank voice there, but it chilled her to the point her knees went numb and she had to put effort into holding herself up._

_"Y-yea, I get it."_

Neliel hummed lightly to herself.

"You always lose your train of thought," Nnoitra noted.

"Whatever," she muttered, cracking an eye to look over at 'him.'

"So why are you hanging out here?" he asked.

"Because of Ulquiorra's second warning."

_"And I would like you to leave now." Ulquiorra said. "Not for good, but for a few hours."_

_Neliel blinked and scratched her head. "Okay, but why?" she asked, not wanting to seem ungrateful for either of the people who allowed her to stay, basically saving her._

_"I intend to chain Grimmjow to the couch and torture him mercilessly and have him fuck me until I cannot walk." He said it like it was normal. An everyday occurrence._

_"O-Oh?" she said, blushing madly. "Have… fun I guess." She felt her eye twitching. Images flooded her mind and she couldn't help it, she got a little hot. "Did you have to tell me that? Isn't that kinda, I don't know, private?" she tried to reason with him. Hot as that was, and it really fucking was, she didn't think he should go around saying that. She even liked Grimmjow, only having to judge from an hour or so of interaction and he really didn't seem so bad once you got past the whole 'natural enemies' thind, and didn't think she should be so knowledgeable about his love life. Before that moment, she hadn't even known they'd had a love life or that Ulquiorra could even be with anyone. If she was being honest, it was fucking creepy._

_Then she imagined Grimmjow in all his muscles and tan skin and beautiful eyes and sensual voice, panting over Ulquiorra, sweating, Ulquiorra arching and crying out beneath his touch, moaning, screaming-_

_"Neliel," Ulquiorra's voice brought her back._

_"Hm? Oh, sorry," she said with an awkward laugh. _

_"You just moaned," he said flatly. _

_"No I didn't," she quickly denied, mortified. "I yawned. Anyways, shouldn't you keep things like that a secret?"_

_"I want you to know," she said, almost glaring at her. _

_"W-why?" she asked, turned on and wary. Such a weird mix._

_"So you know he belongs to me. I will prove that to him as well."_

_She gulped. "Ah. Why the couch?"_

_"Because you were laying there and I will have him remember that spot for not how he helped you while in it, but what I did to him in it."_

"Nelly, you're getting all hot and bothered. Wish I was here with ya," Nnoitra chuckled. Neliel rolled her eyes.

"You'd do it if I wasn't anyways," she reminded him, her eyes suddenly darkened in anger.

"Don't think we've ever done it against a tree," he contemplated, tapping his lip.

"Why can't you just leave me in peace?" she sighed, already resigned. She hated herself for it, but she missed him. She missed his voice, his laugh, no matter how twisted it had become, his touches, his smile.

_I've missed him for a long time though, even before I left._

"Your own fault. Don't want me? Make me go away," he said, shrugging before closing his own eyes and leaning back against the tree.

"Kind of a weirdly placed tree," Neliel mused aloud to herself and any illusion that happened to be eavesdropping. "It's the only one around. Who would put a tree in the middle of a field?"

"They're going to find you, ya know," Nnoitra put in easily, as though commenting on her own ramblings.

"It's so green already, too. Surprising, since it's still so early in the year."

"They'll take Ulquiorra back with them too; make sure you can't escape this time."

"I wonder if it grows any flowers."

"Probably kill Grimmjow. World needs less seers anyways."

"Green, green, green, green-"

"I'll have you back soon, Nelly."

"Green, green, green, green-"

"Very soon."

**XXX**

"So," Grimmjow started conversationally, eyes fixated on the absurdly suspicious and somehow at ease form of Ulquiorra, who had seated himself on the chair across the room as he finished his tea. "Mind telling me why I'm chained to the couch?"

Grimmjow was indeed bound tightly to the couch with a sturdy pair of steel handcuffs chained to the back and holding him in a very compromising position. Thanks to the way Ulquiorra had fixed the chains- which he still didn't know where Ulquiorra had gotten and no amount of coercing seemed to make Ulquiorra spill- so that Grimmjow's hands were held tightly above his head, the backs of his wrists lying over the top of the couch. Ulquiorra had also seen fit to divest him of his shirt as he'd deemed it would be 'too difficult to remove once the chains were on.' Even this didn't bother Grimmjow as much as it should have.

He was more preoccupied worrying about the chain around his neck, hanging limp at the moment but with the capability to choke him or pull him into any position Ulquiorra desired. Of course, this was probably what he wanted, but Grimmjow was seriously worried as to what extent he would use it. Ulquiorra had been a bloodthirsty, impossibly powerful demon with a feared reputation and, most likely, a vast knowledge of various torture techniques for many, many years, even centuries, especially if Nel's reaction to him was anything to go by. Now, Grimmjow figured since he was keeping it all in and abstaining from the perpetual slaughter of other humans, he had to redirect all of his passions, or whatever Ulquiorra had as he didn't seem the particular passionate type, into something else. Honestly, Grimmjow didn't really mind being that something else, but he was beginning to realise that signing up for the job may have some significant drawbacks. Ulquiorra had always been fairly forward, so it never occurred to him what may be lurking in the depths of his twisted brain.

He was increasingly worried about possible dominatrix fantasies and masochistic sex ideas permeating in his gore-deprived mind.

"I believe I have made mention of it before," Ulquiorra mused, running his middle finger around the rim of the cup unhurriedly.

"You did," Grimmjow conceded. "You never mentioned a choker chain though."

"Didn't I?" he murmured unconvincingly. "Must have slipped my mind."

"Sure," Grimmjow sighed, leaning back. "How long are you going to keep me like this?"

Ulquiorra eyes him, clearly running his eyes up and down his half naked form. "Until I am fully satisfied." He licked his lips, and Grimmjow wondered if he'd even noticed dong it.

"What exactly satisfies you, then?" he asked curiously, jingling the chain on his left wrist which seemed to catch Ulquiorra's interest as his eyes became fixated on the glinting piece of metal. _Fuckin' kink._

"Your cock, obviously," he said, sipping what had to be almost the last of his tea.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and let his head drop over the back of the couch. "I swear you're such a tease," he complained. As his head was tipped back, he didn't see Ulquiorra sonido onto his lap, but he sure felt it.

"Perhaps, then, it is time to begin the fun," he suggested, running one cold finger down Grimmjow's chest. His knees were on either side of Grimmjow's hips, his head resting in Grimmjow's right shoulder. "Though you should be warned, my teasing is far from over today."

Grimmjow gulped, knowing Ulquiorra did not give out empty threats. But he loved challenges, fucking _loved_ them, and he wasn't a pussy that would ever back down.

"Bring it on, baby," he growled hotly in Ulquiorra's ear, tugging on the chains and earning a metallic clinking that had Ulquiorra jumping slightly. Clearly they were both ready for this. _Maybe I'm a kink too._

Well, he'd find out.

Ulquiorra let his hands trail down Grimmjow's body ever so lightly, allowing lightning to erupt all over Grimmjow's skin, as though Ulquiorra had somehow installed electrodes into his tissue. He didn't realise the path his hands were taking, following the limp chain starting at his neck. The chain was slightly shorter than the length of his arm and very durable, if the chains around his wrist matched. And Grimmjow was sure they did.

Ulquiorra's hand tightened around the 2/3 mark of the chain and suddenly pulled it tight, making the links around his neck pull together and choke the breath from him. Grimmjow found himself gasping for air that would not permeate his being.

"This is an example," Ulquiorra said calmly, allowing slack after a few seconds. "Should you disobey my direct orders, or indirect orders for that matter, or struggle against me, this will be your punishment." He pulled it taught once again. "Is that understood?"

Grimmjow's grin was feral. He had always loved to play rough. "Fuck yea, baby," he growled, clicking his teeth together in front of Ulquiorra's face when he had regained his breath.

Ulquiorra pulled the neck chain to the right and eagerly bit down on the exposed skin.

"Ah," Grimmjow panted out. Ulquiorra tightened the choke hold again.

"Be silent," he ordered and bit down again. Harder.

Grimmjow bit his tongue to keep the sounds in. This was a challenge and he would not fall short.

_Besides, I get to call the shots next time._

When Ulquiorra was satisfied with the blue and black pattern erupting on his neck, he moved down to nip at his muscular chest. The muscles twitched under his speculation, though Ulquiorra deigned to allow this. Perhaps he had decided to forego banning involuntary movements.

Ulquiorra moved to sit bodily in his lap and rubbed against him.

"Do not become hard," he ordered flatly, grinding again.

"What? You can't be fucking ser-" he coughed and was cut off by the inability to breathe.

"Don't question me," he said, twisting a nipple harshly and Grimmjow threw his head back with a strangled (literally) moan. "No noise, remember," Ulquiorra said, and Grimmjow could have sworn he was taunting him.

Regardless, it didn't help him any in the situation if he was or wasn't. He tried to entertain his brain with thoughts of dead kittens and his grandmother naked.

"Stop grinding," Grimmjow snarled, his voice rough from the treatment.

"You do not call the shots today," he said, tightening the chain slowly and Grimmjow gasped for the last wisp of breath before Ulquiorra tightened it completely. The demon was a fucking sadist.

And fuck if he wasn't turned on by it.

Okay, that was probably saying more about him than he really wanted to think about, but whatever. Let him have his kinks.

Ulquiorra finally let go of the chain and seemed to be contemplating something as he had stopped moving altogether.

"Very well, then. You may get hard," he allowed, moving his hand to Grimmjow's very sensitive naval. Grimmjow felt his head roll back though he wasn't really focussing anymore.

"Keep looking at me Grimmjow," he said, tugging on the chain to bring his head back up. "I want you to watch me."

Grimmjow felt his lips pull into the usual feral smile. And he made sure his eyes were wide for Ulquiorra.

"Yes," he whispered in his ear. "Just like that."

He raked his nails down Grimmjow's torso, leaving light marks. He proceeded to lick the marks one at an agonizing time. Suddenly he pushed himself flush against Grimmjow and angled his head to bite the back of Grimmjow's neck.

This spurred a moment of thought for Grimmjow. There was something of a desperation in that movement. He wanted to run that through his head a bit, just because there seemed something _wrong_ with the action, but Ulquiorra rolled his hips then and it all went out of his head.

Ulquiorra dropped to his knees on the floor and rubbed his claws up and down Grimmjow's jean clad legs. He pulled the zipper down with his teeth and undid the button after.

"Holy fuck," Grimmjow hissed, watching intently. He gasped for breath suddenly when Ulquiorra tightened the chain.

"Silence," he demanded and slowly started to take Grimmjow's jeans off. Too slow. Grimmjow started squirming in discomfort. He was aroused and, if he'd had it his way, he would be currently fucking the life out of his teasing little demon.

But he wasn't in control right then, so he'd play nice.

_Like I have a fucking choice._

He started prodding Grimmjow's cock lightly, playing with it with his pointer finger. Circling and poking and moving it up and down like some messed up toy. But Grimmjow really needed something and Ulquiorra was just making it so. Much. _Worse_.

If glares were words, Grimmjow would have been beyond them.

Ulquiorra seemed to sense this, and subsequently decided he didn't give a flying fuck in hell.

Why?

Because he got up and sat on the floor three feet away. Legs crossed. Staring at him blankly. Not doing anything.

He was still holding the neck chain in his tail, twirling it around.

"I like seeing you like this," he admitted easily, looking him up and down. "So completely at my mercy."

Grimmjow said nothing. His heated glare was enough. Ulquiorra smirked at this.

"Perhaps I will relieve myself. Then I can torture you for far longer."

And he fucking did.

He took his own hardened erection into his hand and started pumping slowly, eyes closing in silent bliss. His wings fanned out behind him, shaking slightly in pleasure. His tail curled harder around the chain and involuntarily choked Grimmjow a bit. But it was so, so worth it. Ulquiorra lay back on the ground and arched his body into his quickening hand.

"Ah, Grimmjow," he panted out, eyes shut and probably imagining Grimmjow doing these things to him. It was so God damn frustrating. His head whipped to the left, away from Grimmjow, and he continued to call his name in a breathy, lusty voice that had Grimmjow wishing he could bang his head on a wall just to distract from the building tension in his nether regions.

He'd be punished if he came too early.

Ulquiorra had no such qualms and came into his own hand with one last pant of Grimmjow's name.

"You're killin' me, Ulqui," Grimmjow sighed, leaning forward. Ulquiorra choked him again.

"I told you not to speak. Be silent."

Grimmjow groaned when Ulquiorra was seated back on his lap, the skin of his ass teasingly sitting against his straining member.

But just as fast as he was there, he wasn't. He was back down between his legs.

"Do not come."

And he enveloped Grimmjow's entire cock. Right to the base. When the tip of it hit the back of Ulquiorra's throat, Grimmjow thought he was going to die. Or that he already had.

Ulquiorra sucked harshly and started humming around his cock.

_He hates me, he fucking hates me. _To expect him not to come from this was such a gross overestimation that Grimmjow started to question his sexual capabilities. He was ready to come, and his cock had been inside of Ulquiorra, not even his ass, for three and a half minutes. He knew this because he was counting to keep himself preoccupied. And, guess what? It wasn't fucking working!

His breathing was becoming extremely laboured and not from Ulquiorra this time. He ground his teeth together and clenched his fists, pulling at the cuffs so hard he figured either the cuffs, the couch or his wrists had to go.

Ulquiorra released Grimmjow with a pop and slid his body up Grimmjow's.

"You gonna keep bein' a cock tease or actually do something about it?" Grimmjow asked with a smirk. Again, the smirk was choked off his face.

"You never learn, Jaegerjaques," Ulquiorra sighed.

"So-_hack, wheeze-_ impersonal."

Ulquiorra slammed his ass down on Grimmjow's cock and Grimmjow howled in pleasure, though it was a shadow of what it could have been due to the chain. He assumed Ulquiorra wasn't too happy with that. He may have wanted Grimmjow to keep his silence, but he knew the little fucker loved it when he moaned.

Ulquiorra raised his hips and slammed them down again, cutting off any other retorts. "Torture doesn't work so well on you does it," he mused, twisting his hips in _such a good way._

He tilted Grimmjow's neck back and bit hard on the junction between his neck and shoulder.

"Perhaps some other form of control must be used," he said, slowly fucking himself on Grimmjow's cock. Grimmjow was panting hard, barely caring what Ulquiorra was saying anymore.

He pulled the chain again, but it only really added to the experience for Grimmjow.

"Not yet, Grimmjow," he warned, going harder and harder, slamming his hips down instead of merely pumping. Ulquiorra suddenly threw his own head back and moaned loudly. Apparently he'd found his sweet spot.

"I can't hold out much lon-" _Choke._

"You never learn," he panted harshly, his eyes unfocussed but his grip all the tighter. "Shut the fuck up."

Swearing had never turned him on so much.

A few more pounds was all it took and Ulquiorra was on the verge of orgasm once again.

"Come, Grimmjow," he moaned out, tightening the chain warningly. "_Now._"

And he did. They both did, crying out the others' name in ecstacy.

Ulquiorra collapsed onto Grimmjow's chest, chest heaving with the effort of riding the man and Grimmjow had his head resting on the couch, staring at the ceiling and recovering from his mind-blowing orgasm.

"No, Grimmjow." Ulquiorra's voice caught his attention. It was feral and with no amount of playfulness or lust in it. Grimmjow met Ulquiorra's eyes and lifted an eyebrow questioningly. Ulquiorra was sitting straight up, looking at him intently. "You may not look anywhere else but at me," he ordered harshly, his voice rough with… something, but not the expected exhaustion or even lust. Something dark and hidden. An unnatural and truly frightening possessiveness that pervaded the bounds of normalcy. It was a twisted, sick sense of ownership.

And suddenly Grimmjow knew why Ulquiorra wanted him chained to the couch. It was to erase every ounce of anything else from his life. Anything that Grimmjow could potentially see as beautiful had to be destroyed. He would allow Nel to live with them if only to erase her from his mind time and time again. A boost to Ulquiorra's ego and balm to his aching heart that Grimmjow would be stolen from him. Ulquiorra was willing to torture that into Grimmjow's mind because it was the only way he knew to be sure that Grimmjow would be his and his alone. Most likely, Ulquiorra had tortured people into changing behavior patterns before, even traumatizing a memory out of them. He wanted to be all that Grimmjow knew and all he cared about.

"Get off of me," Grimmjow said, eyes glowing with malice. Ulquiorra was not well. Not right. Not enough to do this.

Ulquiorra was taken aback and paused in his actions, frozen like a statue. "Come again?" he asked, heat behind his words.

"Get off of me," he repeated. "Now."

Ulquiorra bared his teeth in rarely shown animosity and tightened the chain to the point Grimmjow wondered if his head would fall right off his shoulders.

"You do not order me around. You are under my control. You are _mine."_ The last word, the mine, had been hissed in a bestial way. A dark, sinister edge to it that could only be achieved through years of living a dark, sinister life. And of giving yourself to it.

"You aren't ready for redemption," Grimmjow said tiredly. And, right then, he realised how tired he really was. Tired because of everything he had to put up with. He was exhausted. All the strain of his relationship with Ulquiorra had worn him out. How long could he do this? How long could he pretend the impossible? "I thought you were, but you aren't," he sighed, head dropping. He vaguely realised Ulquiorra had loosened the chain again. "You cling to the darkness. You're still just like _them."_

"No!" he howled and ripped the chain forward, pulling Grimmjow nearly off the couch, the chains on his wrists cutting into his skin and suspending him before the fall.

_Before the fall…_

"Suspended before the fall," he whispered, chuckling. It fit.

"What?" Ulquiorra growled angrily. So much emotion in his voice now, Grimmjow wasn't sure whether to be happy he was showing emotion or dejected that the emotions were so dark.

"That's all I've done," he tried to explain. "You were ready to fall, I just stopped it. No," he corrected. "I didn't stop it. I stalled it."

"You are wrong. I am not falling. I am not _Descending._" He spat the word out bitterly.

"But you were on the precipice," he elaborated. "Not even of descending. The precipice of never being forgiven. Standing on the line between the life you were living, the path you were following, and the life you could have. You haven't chosen yet."

Ulquiorra slapped him across the face and Grimmjow winced. _That left side may never heal._

"I have chosen!" he snapped. "I have mated with you! I love you! Is that not choice?"

"No," Grimmjow said, eyes dull. "That's security."

"Security." Ulquiorra seemed to be tasting the word on his tongue and finding it an unsavory flavour.

"Yes, security," Grimmjow repeated. "You think you can just set up a couple barriers from your old life and be done with it? No more fighting? Do you think you've been redeemed?" He snapped every question harshly at the demon before him. "After everything you've done, did you really think mating with me would be your saving grace? That you'd be forgiven? It's not enough!" He was growing angrier, more passionate. He attempted to lean forward more, despite the chains holding him back. "You are going to have to fight your whole life to be forgiven. You have to feel the weight of the lives you have ended. But you won't even try! You won't attempt to understand what you've done and you can't just put it behind you and move on like it doesn't matter! Loving me isn't enough! You aren't trying anymore. You're only trying to forget. Do you think the people you've killed have forgiven you? Do you think their loved ones have forgotten? You dug your own grave, now bury it! You can't forget," he panted from the exertion of it all. "You have to _care._ Care like they would. Like I do. Care for the people you've destroyed." Tears were falling from his eyes.

For every person who'd ever seen their family murdered. For every person who'd watched their lives destroyed. For every person who'd been forgotten.

_Remember._

"Grimmjow…" Ulquiorra's voice cut him. It sounded scared, alone.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not me." He tried to bring one of his hands forward, to touch his lover. Ulquiorra grasped the cuffs in his claws and crushed them, tiny shards of metal raining to the ground. He took Ulquiorra's face in his hands and stared into his eyes. "Remember them."

**XXX**

Remember them? How could he remember infinite faces? How do you count countless? How do you see in the past what you could not when it was present?

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, body dropping like a wilting flower.

_Without light or life to help it stand. It fades to the darkness. Just like I shall._

"Please," Grimmjow whispered, looking desperate. _He wants to believe in me, but he cannot._

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the faces of so many. But they swirled in his head in a never ending whirlpool you could drown in. Ulquiorra refused to drown.

"I cannot." He tried to wrench himself free of Grimmjow's grasp, but he held fast.

"You can. You have to." He was so determined. "You don't deserve redemption or forgiveness if you can't feel what you've done. Just try. _Try._"

Ulquiorra shook his head. He hadn't cared then, therefore it was impossible to care now.

"One time. Please, just once. Just one person you killed or one person whose life was destroyed because of you. I know you have enough to choose from." It was so bitter that it hurt Ulquiorra's ears. So self-loathing. _He hates that he loves me._ Ulquiorra shook a bit at the realisation. _He hates that there may be nothing in me to truly love._ "So pick one that you can regret. One that you can feel some pain for. Some human emotion for something you've done. Guilt, pain, regret, sadness, _anything,_ but please, just try."

_For you, I will try._

Ulquiorra closed his eyes and willed his mind back, back to something he could feel sorry for. But he felt nothing. Nothing at all.

_"Please stop! Please, just kill me instead."_

Ulquiorra's brow furrowed. Something…

_"You can do whatever you want to me. I don't care! Just please, let him go!"_

Once, decades ago. A man and a woman.

_Ulquiorra frowned at the hysterical woman on the ground, tears pouring from her eyes as she watched Ulquiorra's claws dig into the man's ribs. Why was she in such a rush to die, anyways? After all, she was next. What made her think for a second he would spare either of them._

Ulquiorra clenched his hands into fists. It stirred something in him…

_"I am begging you! Let Kaien go! I'll do anything!"_

_"Stop!" the man yelled hoarsely. Kaien, Ulquiorra supposed was his name. "Don't you dare sacrifice yourself for me!" He called to her as if he wasn't slowly bleeding to death on the ground beneath him. Mortals were so stupid. He should have been trying to conserve energy to live a while longer. Perhaps he had given up and decided death was an easier choice._

_"No! I can't just watch you die," the woman cried, reaching out to him. Ulquiorra kicked her weak hand away._

_"Trash," he said blankly and picked the man up from the floor. _

_"Get away from here!" he called to her still. "Just get away! Please," he turned to Ulquiorra. "Kill me if you want, but don't kill her."_

_Ulquiorra glanced to the woman, weeping on the floor and still reaching to what he assumed to be her husband. _

_When he looked back at the man, he saw Grimmjow's face and started. What? This was not right._

_Ulquiorra tried to reach out to Grimmjow, to put him down and heal his wounds. To kiss him and tell him how he loved him. To caress his cheek and fall asleep in his warm, strong arms._

_"Trash," he said, raising a claw to his neck._

No. _"As if I would let either of you live." _Stop. _"You are just first."_ Grimmjow! What's going on? What is this?

_Ulquiorra poked a shallow wound into the man's neck. _No! You'll hurt him! You'll kill him! _He added a second claw, digging beneath the skin but ripping no more than he had to while the human howled in pain. He had always been a master of torture. He would sever the main vein in the neck, but slowly. Let it bleed out._ Please stop! Grimmjow run! Grimmjow!

_The man started to choke up blood, the coughs becoming wetter and wetter. The woman was weeping in the corner and when Ulquiorra looked over, it was him crying on the floor, his wings flat across the ground and screams erupting from his mouth. _Where am I? Am I here or there? Grimmjow?

_The coughing had stopped. _Grimmjow? _The chest no longer moved. _G-Grimmjow? _He was obviously _GRIMMJOW!_ dead. _

_"Your turn," his voice said, moving towards the woman _himself_ on the ground. _

_"What does it matter?" she _I _whispered and took a knife from somewhere on her person. "I'll follow him wherever he goes. I won't let you torture me too." She _I _plunged the knife through her _my _chest and, within seconds, was dead._

_Ulquiorra surveyed the damage. He cringed in disgust as he realised a drop of trashy human blood had stained his left sleeve. How appalling._

Grimmjow… He's right there! Go back to him! Grimmjow! How can you only care about a drop of blood when Grimmjow is dead? Go back to him! Go back!

_Ulquiorra walked out, paying the scene no more mind._

"GRIMMJOW!"

"Ulquiorra?"

Ulquiorra's eyes snapped open and the world spun before him for about twenty seconds before it righted itself and he was able to attempt to collect his thoughts. _What… what was that?_

"I…" Ulquiorra had nothing to say. What could one say after something like that? He struggled for words but came up blank. "I don't know… I-" He couldn't even finish.

Grimmjow stroked his back softly, holding him tight.

_He's real, he's right here. Not dead, not dying. Here._ He could feel the strong heartbeat beneath the muscled chest. So very alive.

"I'll make dinner," Grimmjow said quietly, disentangling himself from Ulquiorra and putting on his jeans. "Lasagna tonight," he murmured. Ulquiorra sat on the couch, attempting to gather his bearings. Grimmjow probably just wanted to give him space. But he couldn't be away from him. Not yet. He followed Grimmjow into the kitchen because he had to see Grimmjow alive.

"How long was I like that?" Ulquiorra asked softly.

"An hour," Grimmjow answered, not looking at him. "You don't have to tell me. It must have been bad." He started getting ingredients out of cupboards. "You kept calling my name."

This didn't surprise him.

"You can tell me when you're ready," Grimmjow said quietly and walked up to him, kissing his forehead gently. "It's enough for now to know that something happened."

Ulquiorra stared at him with what he knew was a confused, terrified expression. If Grimmjow couldn't see that, he would be able to feel it.

"I felt it too, ya know," he said with a small smile. "Just to have that hope is enough."

"Hope?" he asked weakly, eyes big and scared. Scared because so much depended on something he may never be able to do.

"That there is some good in the world, if we want it." Grimmjow nuzzled his face into Ulquiorra's hair and wrapped his arms around him.

"A chance," Ulquiorra whispered.

_My last chance. _Grimmjow smiled at him and went back to making supper. _My only chance._

_My only hope._

"Potatoes or rice?"

_So small, though._

**XXX**

Urahara sipped unhurriedly on the cup of coffee before him, always having enjoyed it. He couldn't be as pleasantly perky as he was without a little help once in a while. Nevertheless, no matter how upbeat he was, he still lost it sometimes. In actuality, he could be quite a dark and mysterious person, no matter what Grimmjow believed.

Ah, Grimmjow. His adopted son. Sort of. It wasn't like him and Yoruichi had gone through any technically legal means to adopt him. Then again, desperate times and all that.

Urahara really didn't care about too much. His store, Yoruichi, Grimmjow, his life. Stuff like that. He would go to the ends of the Earth to protect the people in his life, and supported them and did what he could when protecting them was not an option. Like Yoruichi. Like Grimmjow.

Now, he'd never had real reason to worry about Grimmjow's safety. The boy was a power house and could definitely take care of himself. With the fighting skills attained from years of experience, a reiatsu worthy of envy and a hard core from many times of punishment and torture, physically, emotionally and mentally, Urahara had decided that Grimmjow was strong enough to protect himself and trample anything that tried to come his way.

That is, until an exceedingly powerful demon attributed to a bat and clearly an Espada had shown up to confuse, and probably hurt in some way, Grimmjow. It didn't sit well with him. He had assumed, after enduring all that he had, Grimmjow would be stronger from it. Physically, he was. Mentally, he was. Emotionally, he most definitely was not.

Honestly, Urahara knew he should have seen it. Everything had not made him emotionally stronger, but very fragile. Losing his parents at such a young age must have crippled him. He had hoped that Grimmjow would prevail through it, but perhaps the death and destruction around him was too much for him to bear. It would bring back unpleasant memories, most likely. He remembered when Grimmjow was younger, eleven or so, a year after his father's death, when he would scream into the night in his sleep, crying for his mother or father. And what could he or Yoruichi do? He was inconsolable. During the day, he would stare out the window, eyes dead. Terribly dead. It was like watching the death of all hope.

He had thought that Grimmjow had accepted it, but he had misinterpreted the encounter.

_"Grimmy? Whatcha lookin' at, kiddo?" Urahara bounded up to him at his normal sitting place on the window sill, staring unseeingly into the world outside. He twirled something in his hand, back and forth. It took Urahara a second to realise that it was a piece of ribbon. Lacy and pink. It looked frayed at one end so he assumed it had come off a larger material. Urahara felt like he had seen it somewhere before. _

_Grimmjow didn't answer. He didn't even bat an eye. His staring went uninterrupted into the fading sun._

_"Grimmjow?" Urahara's voice was soft. "You can tell me," he reminded his new son, grasping his shoulder. Urahara took a seat beside him on the window sill and sat, looking with him. _

_"They're gone," Grimmjow said quietly, eyes briefly darting to the pink ribbon as he played with it in his hands very carefully. He must have cherished it like nothing else he owned. "I know that," he continued. "Maybe that's all there is, then. Live and die. The more you live, the more you die inside. I wonder if you can only be happy if you die and can no longer see death." Urahara knew this should not be coming from an eleven year old child. "Is death all there is in life, I wonder."_

_Urahara, according to Grimmjow, did not know the truth about his parents. He was supposed to think they were murdered before their son's eyes. He was not supposed to know that Grimmjow's mother had been taken over by Aizen Souske, a seer turned incredibly powerful demon, and then subsequently killed once her soul no longer had any control and never would again by his father, and that father dead after a final confrontation with him. Both of which Grimmjow had witnessed. Fate had not been kind to Grimmjow. But it never really was to seers. Or sensors, he supposed._

_"If that's all you see in life, then that's all it will be," Urahara said. He stroked Grimmjow's hair, sitting beside him and offering what little comfort he could. "But it doesn't have to be." He looked over to see Grimmjow's eyes downcast, playing with the ribbon again. "Nothing is ever as simple as black and white, or life and death. You have to decide your own interpretation of the world, and the world will follow accordingly." He felt Grimmjow leaning on him and smiled down at the little tuft of blue hair resting against his side. _

_"Maybe it's not my choice," he said, cuddling up against him. His voice sounded tired. Urahara guessed he was falling asleep. But he couldn't let this child sleep thinking that. It was like striking the final nail in his living coffin. There would be no more than death if he left it at that._

_"There is always a choice, Grimmjow. There is always a chance." _

_Grimmjow fell asleep on his shoulder after that and Urahara didn't move until morning came and he moved of his own accord, rubbing the pink silk ribbon still._

He had realised later that the silk piece was from a ribbon his mother had always worn. He had met her a few times, Rangiku, and had seen the silk always on her person. Such a vibrant, bubbly woman. With such a deadly streak.

"Mr. Urahara?"

Urahara blinked once and redirected his attention to his, for lack of a better term, 'guest.' His 'guest' was none other than Neliel tu Oderschvank, the demon that had come into his store only hours before. She had shown up at the store door as he had been closing. All she said was _You're Urahara, right? Grimmjow mentioned you_ and he had decided to at least give her a chance. Grimmjow usually had good judgement.

Though if he was correct and his son had taken in another demon then his judgement was becoming less reliable as of late.

"Yes?" he asked in a particularly gleeful way. She gave him an odd look that he received so often. He really just didn't want to have to deal in seriousness all the time. Couldn't he have a little fun?

"Where'd you go?" she asked.

He eagerly pointed at the cup of coffee. "For more of this lovely beverage, of course!" Of course, this was not what she meant, but he'd rather not discuss his whole life and personal mistakes with a demon, and an Espada at that.

"I see," she said, rolling her eyes subtly. But Urahara could always catch things like that, whether anybody knew it or not. "So, you're a sensor. Do you also have a Zanpakuto?" she asked. Clearly, Pantera had not escaped her notice. Or, more likely, Grimmjow had almost, or had used it on her.

"Why yes I do!" he said excitedly. "Her name is Benihime and she's just lovely." Ah, Benihime, the fire princess.

"Not all seers and sensors have Zanpakuto's, correct?" she asked curiously.

"No, not all," he shrugged, waving his fan in front of his face. "Some reiatsu powers manifest in other ways."

Benihime was a hell of a companion though, and he was glad his reiatsu had manifested as such.

As a sensor, he could not see demons. Until he released. Much like Grimmjow could see demons, and once he released he could sense them as well, Urahara could do the same, merely reversed. Urahara had one of the most definite sensing abilities and he had the longest range of any other seer or sensor he'd ever met. A handy talent, to say the least.

"What about demons? Do you have any weapons?" It was more of an interrogation than a conversation, but they had to know that they could trust each other at least somewhat.

"Sometimes," she said, shrugging. "Some of us use weapons specially crafted to match our own reiatsu. Often, though, demons use their physical capabilities. I believe you've had enough experience with that."

"Quite true, quite true," Urahara said holding his hat as he laughed. He knew the power of subtle intimidation and Neliel, or Nel as she had asked him to call her, had yet to see his eyes. It didn't seem like much, but it would affect her whether she knew if or not.

"For example, Ulquiorra doesn't use any other weapon besides his physical powers. I can use a lance. But usually I do not. Stark, the Numero Espada, has two guns, one silent and one loud. Nnoitra, current Trecera Espada, uses six large weapons with blades like this," she outlined a broken eight figure in the air. "One for each hand. Szayel and Hallibel, current Cuatro without Ulquiorra and me and Segunda, do not use weapons at all."

Urahara nodded along with her. It was all quite interesting.

"Just for curiosities sake," he started, watching as her eyes rested on his shadowed ones with patience, "Why exactly are you here? And not here as in Hueco Mundo, I mean here as in my house. I would expect you to be settling into Las Noches."

She blushed heavily and fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, um, you see, ah…" she trailed off, unable to form the correct words.

"Ah! Grimmy and Ulqui are having obnoxiously loud sex!" he concluded with a perverse smile. Nel's eye twitched but nodded a slight affirmation. "My boy is becoming a man," he sighed.

"You are so weird," she said, staring at him as though he were the one insane. She had made mentions of her own insanity before.

"Ah yes, that. It's quite fun," he chortled, downing the rest of the coffee. Well, back to the interrogation.

"So, tell me more about this 'mating' phenomenon." He watched amusedly as she sputtered and blushed harder. It could be quite a fun day.

**XXX**

Stark leaned back in the chair where he sat easily in the main sitting room, trying to take a nap. Or had been before Hallibel had found him. It was a big mansion, but she always managed to find him, no matter where he hid. Once he'd tried hiding under the sink, but she'd found him there too. He'd gotten an hour long spiel about how bad it would have looked if someone else had caught him snoozing in that awkward cupboard, hiding from a weaker demon.

She had shot down any of his attempts to tell her that if she would leave him alone and let him sleep every once in a while he wouldn't go seeking sanctuary in awkward hiding spots.

Anyways, like every other time, she'd found him with his feet propped up on the coffee table, but that was not what frustrated her. Nor was it the fact that he was, again, sleeping when they had other things to do.

"What are those?" she asked flatly, pointing at his feet.

Stark used his finger to raise his hat over his eyes. His feet were clad in his new favorite footwear, which he had acquired earlier that day. The Espada had many lower demons at their disposal to send out for mundane purchases if they so pleased. And Stark definitely had so pleased these.

"New boots," he said, grinning childishly. "Like 'em?

Hallibel's eye twitched once in an attempt to keep her temper in check. "What are on the backs of them?" she asked levelly.

"Spurs," he said, clicking one down on the table as it shone in the dull light of the room.

"Spurs," she repeated, one hand on her hip and the other rubbing what was probably a fast-approaching headache. "Why spurs?" she asked, not looking at him but willing the headache away with closed eyes.

"Because I'm a cowboy," he said with a lopsided grin. Hallibel's eyes snapped open and pinned Stark with her stare.

"No, you are not," she said, accentuating each syllable specifically to ram it into Stark's brain. But Stark's brain was very resistant.

"Sure I do. I have the boots to prove it," he said, lifting one foot again and shaking it at her, the spur moving slightly.

Hallibel seemed torn between tearing the boots off and burning them or just giving up.

She chose to give up because there was just no reasoning with him sometimes.

"I thought you should know," she said darkly. "Szayel has found something."

"Did he finally find that bullet in his ass? And I thought I'd shot it in in such a good hiding spot," he said complacently, leaning back even more and crossing one foot over the other, the picture of ease.

She, again, chose not to dignify this with an answer.

"He had found Neliel."

Stark didn't say anything. He didn't even move. Hallibel took that as incentive to continue.

"There is a tracking bug on her, apparently. Szayel met her the night she left and snuck a bug on her. Unfortunately, it was an old bug and therefore is quite slow to receive signals. As far as we know, she is somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, though her destination is clearly North America. Szayel claims she could be there already. He has also warned us that the bug will fall off within forty eight hours to avoid detection. He will alert us when the tracker stops moving and we will begin our search there."

Stark had not moved, had barely breathed. Suddenly, he rose. He walked purposefully out of the room and Hallibel watched him. "Where are you going?" she called to his retreating back.

"Target practice," he said, heading towards Szayel's lab. "He should know the consequences of waking me up."

**XXX**

**AN: **Hey! Don't hate me, I know it's been a while but I return and I give you another chapter with actual plot development!

Love does not equal redemption! I've noticed that Grimmjow and Ulquiorra have been so lovey dovey lately they've forgotten why he came in the first place. Just because he loves Grimmjow, that doesn't mean he's been forgiven for all he's done. It just means he's pulling Grimmjow down with him. Not every problem in the world is solved with love.

I gave you a little taste of Urahara. I know he's supposed to be more comedic, but I always saw him as a deep, intellectual character who pretends to be goofy for some laughs. And I wanted to show a very phycologically scarred Grimmjow. Poor kid.

So now they know. The Espada are starting to track Nel and everything is about to go to hell. Once the tracker catches up with her. I wanted more time to develop the relationship between Nel and her new surroundings and characters. We'll see how I do though.

Most reviews ever! Thank you all so much. And such great reviews! You all make me feel so loved. And like a really good writer. Much appreciated.

Keep reviewing, keep reading, and I will be the happiest writer ever! Much love to you all and I'll talk to you again.


	13. My Father, my Friend

**Chapter 13**

"Pardon?" Ulquiorra asked, staring at Grimmjow blankly and in complete incomprehension.

"You heard me," Grimmjow sighed as he stuck another forkful of lasagna in his mouth.

"No," Ulquiorra said flatly. "I am sure I did not."

Grimmjow huffed lightly and glared across the table at his… boyfriend? Lover? What did one call this sort of Romeo and Juliet romance with demons, anyways?

"I said we shouldn't have sex for a while." Grimmjow took a sip of water and attempted not to pay attention to what was probably a fuming mad, but well controlled, demon. Though, by the looks of things, his control would be slipping shortly.

"Why?" Ulquiorra asked after a few seconds of a dead pause.

"Because sex brings out your more primal side, a sadistic side, if you will," he explained, twirling his fork around to accentuate his point. He then directed the prongs at Ulquiorra accusingly. "And you aren't ready to deal with that yet. You have a long way to go before you can come to terms with that part of you."

It would have been a much more serious moment if Ulquiorra hadn't been staring bloody murder at him. It was sort of funny, actually.

"I am in control," he stated.

Grimmjow let out a bark of laughter. "Oh really?" he chuckled. "You chain me to the couch and start demanding me to be only yours and shit, and you expect me to believe you're ok? You're still possessive and angry, and if I'm being honest, you like torture a bit too much. I mean honestly," he sighed, making light of the moment. "Jacking off in front of me while calling my name? Fuck, it was frustrating. Hot as hell, but frustrating nonetheless."

"You were not complaining when I finally rode you," Ulquiorra stated with a frown. "Perhaps I will have to tie you up again to show you how pleasurable I can be."

"You're too aggressive during sex, brings out a darker side of you. If you chain me up again I have a feeling I'll get candle wax and not-playful whips."

"…I'm horny. Can we have sex now?"

"For the love of God, I'm sitting right here!" screamed the third party at the table, standing up as she slammed her fists on the table in frustration, sexual or otherwise, and switched her glare between the two _idiots_ on her sides.

Grimmjow looked over to Nel, who he had sort of forgotten about if he was being honest with himself. It was too easy to get caught up in conversations with Ulquiorra. Maybe his torture techniques had worked after all.

"Er," he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry."

Nel didn't seem satisfied with his response and instead focussed her surprisingly frightening glare solely on Grimmjow. _This is why I prefer men,_ he thought briefly.

"Can you two please keep it in the bedroom or at least away from me?" she asked, though the tone in her voice clearly said that if either of them tried something like that there would be serious repercussions.

"Unlikely," Ulquiorra said, politely dabbing his mouth with a napkin. No matter how long he was exposed to it, seeing something born of hell using refined table manners still threw him for a loop.

"As much as I'm sure you want to show off your blatant and exciting sex life," she sneered with such venom that Grimmjow could have sworn her pupils became no more than slits. "I do not appreciate the gesture. Do you want me to be jealous? Angry? Recognize who he belongs to? Fine, then. Accomplished. Enough."

Grimmjow never would have guessed she would realise the complexity of the situation in such great detail. He had to give credit where credit was due; she was incredibly insightful.

After her rant she stormed out of the room, beyond pissed.

Grimmjow sighed and gave Ulquiorra a meaningful glance.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked, knowing his intentions.

"Yes," he replied simply, lifting an eyebrow at his illicit lover. "Else I wouldn't have done it."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and got up, throwing his own napkin on his plate. "I'll talk to her." He glared at Ulquiorra. "Don't interrupt. If she's gonna be living here, we have to get along with her."

Ulquiorra growled low in his throat, and Grimmjow likely would not have heard it if he were not used to identifying the various sounds Ulquiorra could make. He certainly had an enviable repertoire of noises hidden in his seemingly emotionless body. His noises in bed were testament enough to that.

"It doesn't matter how much you hate the idea of her staying here," he said, not letting up with his glare. "She will be so get used to it. That involves getting along, or at least being civil. She's at least trying," he said, giving Ulquiorra a few more seconds of his heated stare before turning away to confront Nel.

Of course, he knew that this was far from over. Ulquiorra would probably berate him later for spending an ounce of time with Nel that could be spent with him and he was not looking forward to that in the least, but for now the subject was dropped and Grimmjow quickly left the room to stall the delays that would surely follow.

"Nel," Grimmjow said, eyes landing on a prone, languid figure lying easily across the black leather loveseat nearest to the window. Her head rested on one of the armrests and her legs, or hoofs or whatever, were thrown carelessly over the other side. From that angle she had a decent view of the tv, though not the best. Grimmjow wondered why she would choose that spot when both the chair and the couch would have better viewing positions. Ok, granted he understood the couch. Even Grimmjow was a bit wary of that particular piece of furniture for the time being. Still, why not the chair?

"I prefer to lay down as I so rarely have the pleasure of doing so, or haven't in my time with the Espada." Grimmjow knew for a fact that he had not said anything out loud. Nel shifted her eyes to him and his raised left eyebrow. "I'm not as naïve as everyone seems to think." Grimmjow was really starting to get that.

"Look, I didn't mean to offend you when we started talking back there. I'm not really used to living with anybody, much less two demons," he sighed, knowing he was doing a bad job of explaining this.

"Ulquiorra didn't seem to mind," she said with a roll of her eyes, though she was hardly amused.

"Like we really have to go over the whys of that one," Grimmjow smirked. "I didn't say 'we' didn't mean to offend you."

Nel sighed and nodded, knowing that getting one apology was the best she could ask for. Hell, it was better than she'd gotten with the Espada.

"He's stubborn, that one," she chuckled softly, eyes darting briefly to the wall separating the two demons from sight.

Yea," Grimmjow agreed, allowing his fondness to slip through in his tone. "But I love him."

Nel blinked and stared at him oddly. "Yes, you really do," she said with surprise evident in her voice. "Never thought I'd see the day where Ulquiorra Shiffler took a mate."

Grimmjow tapped her head lightly and Nel took the hint, sitting up to allow Grimmjow to plop ungracefully down beside her. "No kidding," he said, trying to imagine what Nel could be thinking, what Ulquiorra had been like before.

"You remind me of my own mate, actually," Nel said, her eyes distant and most likely lost in memories. "Not as he is but as he was," she clarified, not wanting to sully Grimmjow's good image with Nnoitra's evil visage. Grimmjow sat quietly, giving her room to go on should she wish. Nel smiled at him gratefully. "Even little things you do, you truly seem to care. About Ulquiorra and me." She played idly with her long green hair. "Maybe that makes you less like him but I just see a pureness in you that I haven't for a long time. Maybe it's what I was looking for in Nnoitra. Perhaps I was blinded, seeing what I wanted to. But I see it in you, Grimmjow," she said, eyes shining with childlike happiness up at him. Despite the happiness and innocence projected from her, Grimmjow knew better than to forget what she was and what she was capable of.

This was dangerous territory. A mentally unstable demon projecting her unrealised desires onto him while his possessive and overbearing mate sat, probably eavesdropping intently in the next room with enough incentive already to rip her apart and chain him up in a closet for good.

Why him? Really, the world just had to pile all the shit it could and throw it at him in one fell swoop? Was God really that bored? Everything hated him.

_I preferred it when she was rambling psychotically about white. At least that had an easy fix._

"No you don't," he corrected, poking her forehead. "You're trying to see in me what you couldn't see in him. I get it, trust me. I've done the same thing."

Then really, who was he to berate someone for projecting their desired characteristics onto another? Hadn't Ulquiorra been his scapegoat to not only believe that not all in the demonic race was evil but that his own life was not preordained to be a rotting hell hole as well? Truly, he was no expert when it came to emotional boundary control.

_Maybe I should stop giving Ulquiorra a hard time to_.

"What do you know?" she snapped, giving him an indignant look. "You can't read my mind. Last I checked, that wasn't a human ability. Not even a seer ability."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Stop being so uptight," he drawled, leaning back. "It's not like it's really well hidden. Your emotions are written all over your face. Kinda a stupid thing for a demon to be bad at. Shouldn't you have more control over your feelings? Well, for those of you who have them anyways."  
>Nel growled venomously at him and was on her feet in a second, right hand wrapped threateningly around his throat. "Don't assume you are so high and mighty."<p>

Grimmjow, to his credit, did not flinch. He sat, unmoving and stoic enough to stand on par with Ulquiorra, even with a crazed demon closing off his windpipe.

Nel started shaking, staring into his depthless blue eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked quietly, hardly making a sound. "Like you understand. How could you!" she cried, shaking her head violently.

"I do understand," Grimmjow said with as much of a voice as he could with little to no air entering his lungs. Nel seemed to realize the problem and loosened her grip a bit without actually letting go. "I've been there. So desperate to believe something that you'd see it in anything." He gripped her arm and stared her down determinedly. "I know it's hard, trying to find something less than evil in your life. Maybe that's why it seems so easy to see it in me, because I am not actually evil. But Nel," She let loose a sob at the nickname. "There's more to your life than searching for a lost loved one."

She let him go and collapsed to her knees on the floor.

"He…He's not-"

"Yes, he is." Grimmjow knew he couldn't afford to lie to her. She deserved more than that.

She looked up to him, her eyes wide. She rose to her feet and immediately fell against him, cuddling into him. Grimmjow jolted and his arms went into the air, unsure how to handle the situation. He fidgeted uncomfortably and awkwardly patted her back as she nuzzled her face into his chest.

"Uh… Nel?"

"Grimmjow," she whispered, raising her head, eyes closed, and leaned in to kiss him. Grimmjow blinked once before quickly scrambling out from under her, legs and arms flailing as though he were a puppet.

"No no no no no no no!" he yelped in horror. "Look Nel, This ain't gonna work! I'm mated to Ulquiorra! And I definitely _ain't Nnoitra, _no matter what your twisted little brain is telling you!" He had fallen on the floor and was quickly scooting away from her, desperate to put some space between the delusional, and apparently horny, demon.

"Come on, honey," she said with dreamy eyes, her body moving more seductively. "Nothing to get all worked up about." She fell to the floor again, though slower and more, well, _accented,_ and started crawling over to him.

"Bullshit!" he snapped, backing up further until his back hit a wall. He was seriously unsure whether to laugh at the stupidity of the situation or freak out. Honestly, both would have sufficed at this point.

"Baby, there's nothing to be nervous about," she purred, crawling seductively over to him.

"No, just a crazy, demented, delusional and quite powerful demon trying to seduce me with my way-too overprotective mate in the next room," he stated flatly, trying to jar something in him.

"Then he'll have to get used to the competition," she snapped, putting her hands on his shoulders and was about to rub her body sultrily up his, but a flash of white and black appeared and Nel's weight was suddenly off him.

"I think not," Ulquiorra said darkly, glaring heatedly into her eyes. "Touch him again, and I'll rip your hands off. Understand?" He didn't wait for an answer. He dropped her on the ground and grabbed Grimmjow's hand, pulling him up and leading him out of the living room.

"Where are we going?" he asked, trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

"To have sex," Ulquiorra said matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Grimmjow said, slightly bewildered. "Alright."

They were almost to the bedroom when a thought occurred to Grimmjow.

"Hey wait! Not alright! I told you we weren't having sex until you can control your darker primal side."

Ulquiorra didn't spare him a glance, tugging him along behind him in a determined sort of way. "Aren't you over that little whim?" he asked tiredly. Grimmjow felt his eye twitch.

"It is not a whim, bastard!" he growled, trying in vain to remove his wrist from Ulquiorra's iron grip.

"I shall cure you of your error in judgement," Ulquiorra decided, paying Grimmjow no mind.

"Oi! I am not having sex with you!" he shouted in Ulquiorra's ear.

"You are actually quite cute when you believe you have a say," Ulquiorra said, finally giving him a brief look and ruffling his hair affectionately. Grimmjow may even have been surprised by the simple gesture, as small acts of affection were not particularly Ulquiorra's forte, but he was to steaming mad to really focus on that aspect of it in the moment.

"Listen, Shiffler, I ain't fucking you. Get that through your head! You can't really rape me when you bottom!"

Ulquiorra looked at him with a superior look that Grimmjow immediately knew to be wary of.

"Just because I bottom for you does not mean it is all I am capable of." Grimmjow gulped inaudibly, though Ulquiorra still seemed to hear it if the smug look was any indication.

"Hey, wait, no! I just got out of being molested! I don't wanna do this Ul-ULQUIORRA! That is not a fucking toy!"

The ungodly harsh grip on his crotch cut off whatever rant he had been trying to spew.

"It will be," Ulquiorra warned and continued to drag him by the painful grip on his sensitive nether regions. "As if you could keep your sexual appetite hidden. You are already hard. You have less control than I do."

"I am still not doing this! No, I told you already, we're waiting. Hey! Pay attention! ULQUIORRA!"

**XXX**

Szayel placed the knight in a compromising position, easy for Stark to take with his rook but in turn sacrificing it to the queen. Was it worth it though?

As was always the issue when playing chess with Szayel. It just usually wasn't worth it to play his game and fall into his traps. Szayel was good at traps, thrived off them. The only way to truly defeat the mad genius was to not fall into any traps; to create a mad world of a game where convention and the typical flow or, for lack of a better word, 'smarter' moves in the game were thrown out the window to make way for confusion, and in Szayel's case, mass hysteria.

Stark didn't win very often, but it was so worth it those few times he did to watch Szayel go off the deep end. Not that he wasn't already off the deep end but it was much more amusing when he let all that pent up insanity flow free.

But that was hardly the problem at the moment. Szayel sat with his usual apathetic poker face on, waiting for Stark to fall into one of his traps.

And there was another problem with Szayel's playing style that Stark had noticed. It never changed. The plans themselves were ingenious, really. They were well thought out and could use a span of many turns to spin a win out of a hopeless situation, or what you thought was hopeless as surely when Szayel put these plans into action he never did. But Stark had seen them all. He could all but read Szayel's mind at this point. Sometimes the pieces changed and certainly the layouts did as well, but that was the extent of it. Otherwise, he could guess Szayel move for move. It wasn't technically a bad thing because the plans, as stated before, were ingenious. If Stark had been playing for the first time, he would have fallen for every one hook, line and sinker.

But he wasn't, and he felt as though he was being treated like a child, and a stupid one at that. Was he supposed to fall for them again? Stark was far from stupid, much more calculating and brilliant than anyone, save perhaps Hallibel, gave him credit for. But having Hallibel know how smart he was backfired to, as she was constantly on his ass to live up to his true nature and abilities.

At any rate, he tired of Szayel's ineffective mind games. Thus, he decided to play his own. The more worked up Stark could get Szayel during the game, the better the payoff was when he actually lost. And Stark knew that Szayel was going to lose. He was too predictable. An unfortunate quality for a supposed mad genius.

"It's almost the anniversary of that day, isn't it," Stark hummed, moving an obscure pawn to an obscure place and Szayel's brow furrowed and he huffed irritably. From what he had said or from the fact that Stark had made yet another seemingly pointless move that helped, supposedly, neither him nor his opponent, he couldn't tell. "Yyltfordt's death, I mean."

It was one of those things that everybody knew but never talked about. If they could help it, that is. It was not as a testament to Szayel's personal feelings on the matter, if it was Stark assumed he would be harassed about it constantly, but it onset an awkwardness that such a taboo should whenever it was mentioned.

Yyltfordt had been Szayel's older brother and the two had been… close. Even thinking about it Stark found he did not like to dive too deep into it. Szayel and Yyltfordt had been in a very scandalous and illicit relationship for many years. The brothers had even mated, for Christ's sake.

One would perhaps believe that demons would not be bothered by this as they were the epitome of sin and evil, and what was worse than incest, really. After all, no one would bat an eye to cold-blooded murder or mass slaughtering or rape and the list went on. Perhaps there was just an innate taboo still in them from their long forgotten human days, something that wormed its way into a soul and refused to leave. Stark knew that it had been common practice centuries ago, especially for royalty, to marry a sibling. So chalk it up to one good innate tendency in a demon or personal preference on Stark's part, but he still strayed away from it.

Szayel seemed distracted, at the very least.

"So it is," Szayel murmured , eyes focussed and yet not on the chess board before them. "How many years will it have been now? Not so many, really. Not to us." Szayel took Stark's queen with his own and Stark felt a bit agitated by that. The queen was his favorite piece, so versatile in the movements, certainly the most valuable besides the king. What was a game without a queen? The queen should have been the most important piece. It was the center of most moves and traps, the piece that, though you could lose it and still win, was a hefty blow.

But Szayel wasn't really paying attention and didn't seem to see that he had left his king in jeopardy, or what would be in a few turns.

Surely, the queen was worth that sacrifice, the eventual triumph in the game. All the same, he felt on edge after losing it. Something tickled the back of his mind. Perhaps not tickling, it was more unpleasant. Like a soft, barely noticeable but very persistent scratching. Something wrong.

Stark put it to the back of his mind to finish the game. Should the nagging scratch ever resurface he would pay it more attention, but not then.

"5 or 6 years, right?" Stark prodded, running his fingers over a bishop and a knight, positioned next to one another.

"6 in two months, yes," Szayel said, brow lowering infinitesimally, and if Stark did not have the keen sight he did, he likely would not have noticed.

"It's terrible, when one loses their mate. Mate and family in your case," he said, punctuating the statement with the taking of Szayel's own queen with his bishop. Szayel's eyes followed Stark's movements as the white queen was directed to the side of the board and his gaze lingered after it had been disposed of. "Most of us expected you to Descend after that. Most do."

Szayel's frown became more prominent and he drummed his fingers on the table three times in quick succession. "I cannot Descend, not yet. I would lose my rational thinking, and to catch the damned seer who killed Yylt- him," Szayel cringed as he almost said the name, probably bringing up to many memories. "I must have all of my functions intact. She is such a clever one. I haven't been able to find her since that day."

Stark knew the basics of the story, mostly because for the first few months of his mate's death Szayel had been howling how he would avenge his fallen lover all day and all night all the bloody time. Accent on the 'all night.' Stark assumed it was the time in his life where he'd slept the least. He could not even bring himself to lift a finger, despite his own personal annoyance at him and other demons, particularly Hallibel, prodding him to put an end to it, as he was the most powerful and therefor the most respected demon. He would always repeat the same thing. 'I would do the same if it were you, Hallibel.' That shut her up and any other who tried to coerce him.

"Strange, isn't it. Surely a woman with purple hair and yellow eyes would be easy to find."

Stark felt more than saw Szayel's heated glare on him. "If you are suggesting that I am not doing everything within my power to find and kill that woman than you are sorely mistaken." Szayel punctuated his own statement by slamming his remaining castle in close proximity to his knight. He supposed he would have to move it on the next turn.

"No need to go breaking the board over it, I was merely making an observation." He reluctantly moved his knight, knowing he was playing a bit into Szayel's hands but promising to make up for it next turn.

"Well your commentary is far from appreciated, Stark." He chose to take the obscure pawn that Stark had moved two turns ago. "This is my own business so kindly stay out of it."

Stark could feel his body become still, dangerous and unmoving. He could sense the air around him, feel in singular detail the demonic reiatsu emanating from Szayel, knew immediately his strengths and weaknesses, what to watch out for and what to strike. Everything was sharper, slower, his senses were heightened and he was enraged.

Stark flipped out his gun and jammed it into Szayel's throat, choking him harshly.

"I don't appreciate being talked down to, Granz. Just because I play nice sometimes doesn't mean that I am." His voice was lower than before, his eyes hidden sharp and unwavering as they smouldered into Szayel's own eyes. He turned the second gun to the wall and a silent bullet shot from the barrel and when through the wall, where they both heard a soft gasp and someone collapse. A lower level demon. Not important enough to care about, really. Important enough to serve as a threat, though.

He holstered the gun and, keeping the other jammed in Szayel's windpipe, moved his bishop.

"Checkmate," he said calmly, pushing the gun roughly enough against Szayel's neck to have him falling over in the chair.

Szayel did not move. A wise choice, as Stark believed he would have shot him. Again. Perhaps through the forehead this time. Though he had sacrificed his chance to see a rather comical 'Szayel freaking out' scene, he felt his dominance had been asserted, and it was enough. He rose from his chair and proceeded to walk out of the room.

"Quite the show off," Szayel muttered, believing he wouldn't be heard. Stark whipped out the gun again, the loud one, and shot behind him, eyes still trained ahead of him.

Szayel's wail of pain was enough to know he had hit his mark and he did not have to look back to know that he would see Szayel cowering on the ground, cradling his wounded hand with wide, fearful eyes stuck on his strong, intimidating back.

"Do not forget your place again." Stark walked out of the room, his grey coat moving powerfully around him and the light glinting sharply off his spurs as he walked out of the room, the small clinking sound heard from his boots giving him an odd satisfaction equal to that of shooting Szayel.

_Well, I always have been one to enjoy the little things in life._

**XXX**

"I'm just going to repeat this because I have to say it and remember it."

Grimmjow gave him a look that said he clearly did not appreciate the sentiment but Urahara just smiled, waving his fan frivolously and continued on.

"You ran out of your house, past a lovely lady demon who clearly saw, without your shirt, your pants unzipped, your hair very much chaotic, your showing skin littered with scratch marks and bite marks, surprisingly black, actually, Ulquiorra must have a possessive nature, and jumped into the truck, literally jumped because you hit your head on the roof, and drove here as fast as you could, with handcuffs hanging off your lovely left wrist there, because you were afraid of Ulquiorra raping you." Urahara paused and took in Grimmjow's appearance, the same as he had described. The only difference, of course, was the murderous aura permeating the room. A glare that could kill a man, but Urahara was in a class of his own and therefore not affected. Or so he liked to think. He assumed Grimmjow thought so too, but in a much more insulting way. "Did I get everything?"

"Fuck off, Kisuke." Urahara took that as a yes.

"Be nice, Grimmy! I gave you painkillers for your poor soft head, didn't I?" Grimmjow's glare was becoming darker. "Come on Bluebell, lighten up!" Darker.

"Why do I even come here?" he sighed, his head falling back.

"Because you miss and love me!" Urahara said with a manic grin.

Grimmjow was not amused. "I would have had a better time being raped by Ulquiorra," he muttered heatedly.

"If it's a good time you're after than I'm sure I know someone that could help," Urahara said, contemplating. "There's a lovely woman down the street who-"

"Fuck off Kisuke!" he repeated.

"Why must you always use such foul language?" Urahara said with a dramatic sigh.

"I am not even going to fucking dignify that with a fucking answer."

Urahara chuckled good naturedly before setting a cup of coffee in front of Grimmjow.

"I suppose there's no point to trying to curb your quirks now. Old habits die hard and all that," Urahara said dismissively before sipping his own coffee.

"I would say the same about you," Grimmjow said in a dark tone. "If I actually knew anything about you."

Urahara paused briefly, holding the cup close to his mouth before setting it down with a dejected sigh. "I suppose I haven't been totally honest with you." He took off the hat and set it down on the table. Grimmjow, he knew, would realise the symbolism of such an act as he was, in effect, baring himself for judgement by the one he had called son for twelve years. "And you are not one to let such a thing go. Nor should you be. I deserve your anger," he admitted, motioning his hand towards Grimmjow to ask his questions.

"What was the point of it all!" Grimmjow snapped in a winding fury he had not realised had been building within him. "You lied to me for twelve fucking years! You let me believe you weren't affiliated with the demon world my whole life when you could actually sense demons from miles and miles away. So then why? Why not help me adjust instead of needlessly pretending you didn't know anything? There's just no fucking point!"

Urahara let him catch his heaving breath, wanting him to hear everything because it was important, lest his childhood be ruined.

"Grimmjow, when your mother died, you were eight. So young. Too young. We knew you then, friends of the family, I suppose. We seers, sensors, what have you, we stick together, seek each other out and share in a pain that only we understand. So when Rangiku was- I won't go there," he said in an apologetic tone, seeing Grimmjow's eyes downcast and depressed expression. "At any rate, after… _that,_ Hyorinmaru approached us with a request. He wished for us to take you should anything happen to him.

"Looking back, I suppose I should have realised his plan. He was so… destroyed after Rangiku and all those who knew him realised that consolation would just be an insult. He would deal with his pain or he would not, but we would not interfere.

"He inevitably decided not to, apparently, as two years later and right after finding the location, he went after Aizen, leaving you to me and Yoruichi. It was a selfish act. He could not handle the pain of losing his wife and left his only son to fend for himself. Grimmjow," he said, looking sadder than he had felt in a very long time. "I won't begin to try to sympathise with you for what that must have been like. You told me once you believed that your father had abandoned you. And I suppose in a sense he did. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. You had so much pain then. For hours on end you would stare out that window in our living room, thinking about things a ten year old never should. Contemplating your parent's deaths and the meanings behind them, if there was any, and what your part in it was."

Grimmjow's eyes were trained so hard on the coffee cup Urahara imagined Grimmjow wanted to drown in it. How much pain he still had, even Urahara didn't know. Maybe even Grimmjow didn't know.

"You knew Yoruichi was a seer as you had met her before. Though I knew you, we had never met, and you did not know who or what I was. I decided that you should not be told about my true abilities, so blame me for that."

"But why?" Grimmjow rasped out harshly. "I know all of this. But I don't know _why._"

Urahara nodded, and took one of Grimmjow's hands in his own. He felt Grimmjow flinch back but allowed it.

"Back then, you had never had a friend. Not ever in your life. You would encounter other seers, some of them children, but you never had a friend. I don't know if you thought it affected you or not, but I know that on some level it must have. Most likely you would have brushed it off fairly easily, thinking you were stronger. It comes with having the parents you did so I understood in that respect. They were all you needed." Urahara ran his hand over his tired eyes. It was hard drudging this all up, but Grimmjow deserved this explanation. More so, he needed it. And far be it for Urahara to deny it to him.

"But, you'd never even had a normal family. You always moved around, hunting demons with your parents as you trained to be a great seer. You were very gifted in that your reiatsu was stronger than average, stronger than above average, even. But what was all that power and training worth in the end? You could defend yourself, certainly, but you were always sad or angry or determined. You never had the life a little boy should have. You never played in the mud, you writhed in demons blood. You never played tag or hide and seek with others your age, you ran and hid from demons centuries old and out for your blood. You were never a child, you were a hunter.

"I won't question your parents raising methods, I have no right to and you would become too defensive and probably not let me finish. But Grimmjow," he stared with a deep, festering sadness, there since the first day they had taken in the blue-haired child and known that this child had only ever known heartbreak. "I didn't want you to grow up like that. I wanted you to have at least one friend, to have someone who had nothing to do with the damned world you lived in. I wanted you to be happy, if only for a while. I asked Yoruichi not to tell you about my powers and she agreed it was best. We kept it from you to allow you some time away from the demon world. Yoruichi would help you become stronger, cater to the seer in you, and I would let you be a boy, the human child you were. You held too much pain, and I could not stand to watch you suffer every second of your life."

Urahara paused, sighing deeply before taking a sip of his coffee. He knew something like this would need to sink in for a moment. After his brief sip, he set the glass down and prepared to begin again.

"When Yoruichi left, I knew it took a toll on you. You were only sixteen, still a child, really, though you always tried to deny it." He chuckled fondly a bit before continuing. "You watched someone else walk out of your life, leaving you willingly, and I knew it killed you a bit more inside.

"I would hear you crying sometimes, late into the night. I never really knew if I should let you cry or not, knowing how prideful you were. I didn't want to insult you."

"You always came in, though," Grimmjow said quietly, head still down so Urahara couldn't see his eyes, but he thought he saw a glimmer of a tear running down his cheek. "Always. You'd come in and rub my back and let me cry on your shoulder. You never said anything. You were just there for me. I guess I always appreciated that."

Grimmjow was gripping Urahara's hand tightly now, and Urahara realised he was gripping back just as tightly, their hands shaking with the force of it all.

"You were more important than your pride. You needed someone, and I wanted to be there for you. Sometimes you'd cry for Yoruichi, but sometimes also for Hyorinmaru and Rangiku. You'd whisper their names and I knew you were still trying to come to grips with everything.

"I debated whether to tell you after she left. I wondered if it was better if you knew that someone else was in the same situation as you. But in the end, I decided not to. You didn't need a trainer, or even someone who could completely understand. You needed someone to be your friend, for when you needed a boost or someone to play with, or a father, to care for you and hold you when you cried. If I had told you, you would have turned from me and put me with Yoruichi as a comrade. We both knew you never truly considered her a mother, though for different reasons than why you never considered me your father. She was your trainer and you could put her in that category, as a fighter and someone to admire, not someone to run to when you were scared. I was there for that. She was for your strength and the seer in you. I was for your emotions and the damaged child within."

"So, why did you tell me?" Grimmjow asked, still not looking at him.

"I always knew you were powerful, and I knew you could handle anything that came your way because I could judge their power against yours. You weren't stupid Grimmjow, you still aren't. I knew you wouldn't die.

"And then Ulquiorra showed up. He was a very, very powerful demon. Stronger than even you, I'm afraid. Don't take that as a blow to your pride, it is just my sensing powers speaking.

"I didn't think he would stop in Las Noches, not even Hueco Mundo, or at least I thought he'd just pass by. I can sense a creature's power but not their motivation and when I felt that demon stop in front of Las Noches, I feared for you. There was nothing I could do though. You were too far away for me to get to and you would have fought him even if I'd called and warned you away. I don't pray very often because I don't think God could really care about us if he threw us in our lives with this accursed fate, but I prayed then.

"I felt the demon go into Las Noches, and there was no malicious intent from him, rather there was a reserved and confused aura about him. Determined but softer than any blood-lusting demon. And I knew you were alive, I could still sense you. It was enough. Ulquiorra wouldn't kill you and you would still be on guard and have the upper hand on sacred ground.

"When you walked into my store with that insanely powerful demon in tow, I nearly ran to you and dragged you away, putting my own zanpakuto at that thing's throat. But you actually seemed fond of him, especially considering he was a demon, so I refrained, acting as my zany self instead. Or as best I could as I feared for your life.

"When you came to my house, I finally told you the truth. I needed you to know because with one powerful demon here, I knew others would follow it. And so they have and I fear that more will come. These are the Espada, and they will not let either demon out of their grasps. I needed you to know you could come to me with problems with that demon or any others. And I need to begin warning you. I could no longer hide myself when you were in such imminent danger.

"Honestly, you took it differently than I thought you would have. You didn't yell, didn't even try to throw a punch. You just got up and left. In reality, I know that perhaps this was worse than any of those other things. You were traumatized, realised that someone else you loved had betrayed you, and I felt horrible about it. But I knew you needed time to come to terms with it before I could ever begin to explain myself.

"I know this can't make up for the years I've lied to you, and maybe I made a mistake, but I did what I thought was best. You deserved to be a child, to experience a life much lighter than your own black world. Perhaps it was the wrong decision, I suppose I'll never know. I'm not asking you to forgive me, as I don't think you can and I truly don't deserve it, but I just wanted you to know. And to know how truly, unbelievably sorry I am and that I always will be. It remains one of the greatest regrets in my life, if not the biggest, but I stand by my choice."

Urahara covered Grimmjow's hand with his other as well and bowed his head deeply, in a sign of respect, sorrow and an apology.

Grimmjow was unable to speak, choked pants his only real response.

Neither was sure how long they sat there, basking in the pain of the lives they shared and the ever enduring torture. Grimmjow grasped Urahara's hands with both of his then, tears flowing freely. At some point, Urahara began to cry as well. After so long but so little a time, Grimmjow finally broke the silence with a few cracked, whispered words that had both crying harder but beginning to unravel the ball of pain coiled within them and between them.

"I forgive you."

**XXX**

**AN:** Hate me if you will but let me say, I am so so so so SO sorry for taking so long! I've just got a lot going on but I do solemnly promise to finish this story.

So, I don't know if this was worth the wait, but i hope so as it was one of what I believe is the more emotionally jarring scenes in the story. Urahara and Grimmjow.

I realised that though I've spent a lot of time saying that Grimmjow was damaged, I've never really shown much viable proof towards it. So here it is! I also liked exploring Urahara and Grimmjow's relationship as I hope they seem more like father and son now as opposed to just friends or something. And if they seem OOC, they're supposed to. Grimmjow would never cry in the show, and Urahara wouldn't either. But with the story I've created, I think it's fair to say that facing all of their emotional and mental pain while looking back on the catalyst that brought them to this breaking point might warrant a few tears. Or so it is in my mind.

And yes, Yoruichi killed Szayel's mate. That is why she's hiding out, because she killed an Espada's mate. It would have had to be a strong demon seeing as how much I've built up Yoruichi. She'd have had the entire Espada after her because this was sort of a blow to them all as this one person managed to kill an Espada's mate, sort of makng them look bad. I needed a good reason for Yoruichi hiding out and really emotionally damaging Grimmjow, so why not an Espada?

Now the Stark-Szayel scene is sort of a strange one. Just a chess game, right? WRONG! I'm not really one for foreshadowing or deeper meanings to a game, as I'm sure this kind of thing is used often and probably to death, but you can probably see some pretty obvious stuff in there. If not, then I congragulate myself. But if so, remember this is still my first fic ever so I'm still working the kinks out of my writing. I also noticed I've sort of started to make Stark look too good, especially since he's supposed to be the leader, reluctant leader but leader nonetheless, of every frickin demon. He's not good, not really, he's still a demon. he kills things for no reason, he threatens people because they question him, he shoots others because they show a bit of disrespect, this is what a demon is! So, though I still love him and in this story you are supposed to too, he's still evil.

Szayel himself is a bit different than what most of you were probably expecting. But I thought it made sense. Szayel is ingenious but it hinders him because he can only come up with flawless plans that, if used repeatedly, can be beaten. He's smart and calculating but he follows a pattern. I know he's supposed to represent insanity but I think it's more interesting if insanity is methodical as opposed to just spouting out random shit all the time. It gives him a more developed and relatable character. Or so in my oppinion. If you don't think so, then we agree to disagree.

I actually went back and forth on the ending, should I keep it serious or have some comey in the end? Well, given the theme and mood of the whole story I went for serious because I think comedy would have ruined the moment.

Now I got some awesome comments and I just have to say thank you so much! It's really a treat to know how much people like this story. I actually used **YaoiOverlord**'s idea for the whole interraction with Nel seducing Grimmjow. So thank you! I actually have no intentions of a subplot having Nel after Grimmjow, maybe just some comic relief.

Thank you again to all who reviewed, or bothered to read these increasingly long author's notes, and please continue to review! You know I love it and it encourages me greatly. So goodnight all! I'l talk to you again soon...hopefully.


	14. Check

**Chapter 14**

"Pace all you want to, Ulquiorra. It won't bring him back any faster."

"Be silent you insufferable ant."

It had been like this for a good two and a half hours. Grimmjow had gone storming out of the house, dressed quite provocatively, or not really dressed if you'd rather that, and had driven off with no whys or whens.

Well, fine, the whys were obvious. Nel wasn't stupid, after all. He didn't want to be raped by Ulquiorra. Hell, who did? But the whens of his return had Ulquiorra, who she was used to seeing calm and collected, if not blankly sadistic, in what could be translated as his own form of panic.

Although she had no idea that when he panicked he habitually banged his head against walls for no understandable reason.

As if on cue, he paused in his pacing at another wall and started banging his head ritualistically on the light brown surface before him. No holding back or flinching either. Ulquiorra did not half-ass anything.

"Why do you do that?" she asked, just really too curious at this point.

Ulquiorra didn't even look at her. "Do what?"

"_That!"_ she said, scratching her head. He could be so difficult.

"I am pacing because I worry about Grimmjow and what he is doing. He could be very angry."

Nel growled and tried not to let her eye twitch. How did Grimmjow put up with him?

"No, the wall thing," she snapped irately.

"What wall thing?"

His voice didn't even waver as he banged his head over and over again on the wall.

"What you're doing right now!" she hollered.

"I am not doing anything."

"You're banging your hear on a wall!"

"Are you sure?"

"What the fuck is wrong with y-" she paused, then decided it just wasn't worth losing the last of her sanity to a conversation with Ulquiorra. "Yes."

"Oh," he said, finally stopping for a moment. "So I am." He then continued.

"I could pull my hair out, I really could," she said with an exhaustion she'd only imagined feeling, even with Nnoitra.

"I am sure it is not outside of your physical capabilities to accomplish such a feat."

"It was rhetorical!" Nel screeched.

"I see no point to rhetoric statements. They are better left unspoken."

"I hate you sometimes."

"I hate you most times."

Nel viciously grabbed the remote again and flipped channels in the impossible, naïve hope that she could ignore him. The continuous thudding against the wall was distracting but not totally overpowering in its annoyance. Not like Ulquiorra himself.

"You should choose a channel. Flipping randomly like that will not accomplish any form of entertainment."

"It keeps me from throwing the remote at your head. Though I doubt anything I could do to you would decrease your brain functions anymore." Nel had decided that talking to him like him was the best way to actually deal with him.

"You are too stupid to understand my higher brain functions. You fear what you do not understand, and you cannot understand because you are not on my mental level."

Nel glanced at him, his head still banging on the wall over and over.

"Thank god for that," she muttered, flipping through the channels again.

"So you have not Descended then," he noted, proving he was listening more to the syntax of her statements than what she had to say in general. "I was not actually sure."

Nel growled at him low in her throat. "Did you think I would be so inclined to Descend because Nnoitra had?"

"I said nothing of the sort," Ulquiorra replied in what Nel could only describe as a snooty voice. Ulquiorra was being snooty.

The fuck was the world coming to?

"It would seem," he continues, eyes accusing. "That you are worried about it though."

Nel turned away and found her eyes drifting to the other side of the couch.

Nnoitra waved at her, that stupid wave where he looked like he should be rapping his fingers on a table waiting for something. One finger at a time.

"No," she denied, turning back to the tv. "Not really."

"So you don't still see Nnoitra wherever you go?"

Nnoitra chuckled darkly and stuck his tongue out at her childishly. If Ulquiorra saw her staring at an invisible being, he made no mention of it.

"Not everywhere."

"Sure."

"And stop that already! I am so not going to take advice on sanity from someone who won't stop bloody banging their head against a fucking wall!" she snapped with a heated glare.

"Language."

"Brain damage!"

When all she received in response was more bangs from the wall, Nel gave up completely.

"You never were one to keep on like that," Nnoitra hummed. "You seem… feisty."

Nel smiled softly to herself. Well, who could deny that? She hadn't been there for that long, but Grimmjow, she had found, was infectious. His charisma, his strength, his overpowering personality. It was so refreshing to be around him after years and years of being around stoic, uncaring demons. Grimmjow cared, and not just about Ulquiorra or her.

He didn't like to show it, but Nel had always been good at reading people. Maybe it came from hiding herself for so long that she recognized the signs of what lay beneath a façade. But regardless, she could tell.

Grimmjow cared about everything with a passion that surprised her. It was in the way he talked to others; how he could be gruff and seem harsh, but was always inadvertently kind, never overstepping boundaries and always bringing a lightheartedness to any situation.

He was so willing to accept others as well. Ulquiorra, her, where would his kindness end?

Even in the way he would do the chores around Las Noches, grumbling and complaining and shouting at people who came into his line of sight, she saw a sort of reverence in him for the place. As though his home was much more important to him than he let on.

Sometimes he would stop and look up to the sky and she could almost see a thankful smile, though she was never too sure what he was thankful for. Even still, his eyes seemed to shine a brighter blue in those moments of what she assumed was peace and appreciation. Sometimes she just liked to watch him when this happened and try to guess what he was thinking about. Ulquiorra maybe, or perhaps his adoptive father, or the mother far away in hiding. Perhaps it was fond memories of his true parents or childhood.

He always looked most beautiful then. She wished he looked like that more often. He always seemed to have a weight about him, which at his age he should not have. A twenty one year old should not yet be world weary. She wished she could help carry the burden. It was by his grace that she had been permitted to stay and be happy. Perhaps she herself had a reverence for him as well.

She suspected he would probably be cross should she ever mention it out loud, but she considered Grimmjow a sweetheart in disguise.

"Tch. You're too naïve, even after everything I put you through."

Nel barely refrained from sighing. She had almost forgotten Nnoitra was there.

_Well, he's not really,_ she reminded herself glumly.

"I'm here enough to torture you," he chuckled darkly, leering at her from under his slick black bangs. She noted that he really needed to take a shower. "No I do not!" he snapped, teeth bared. She kept her eyes glued to the tv, unwilling to look over at him and give herself away to Ulquiorra.

Her eyes wandered back to the wall where little dents had been made and travelled across the room to where Ulquiorra had probably paced while she was lost in thought, knocking his head against a new wall. Her eye twitched involuntarily and she huffed quietly.

"Grimmjow probably won't appreciate all the damage," she noted in an attempt to make him stop.

"I've broken things before. He won't be surprised." A vain attempt, apparently.

"You should stop breaking his things," she suggested, finding the image of the third most powerful demon in the world preforming what could only be self-mutilating acts at this point with worry over a human who had been gone for less than three hours much more amusing than anything on tv.

"I find it entertaining when he throws fits," he said blankly, still no emotion in his tone and seeming oblivious to the fact that he was still _banging his head against a fucking wall._ How long had this been going on now? An hour? Two? Nel couldn't even remember.

"You would, sadistic bastard," she giggled lightly in a child-like tone.

"Isn't it tiring for you to be on holy ground for so long?" he asked suddenly, probably not appreciating her comment.

She considered that. Well, yes, it was. Harder for her than Ulquiorra at least. She did not have regenerative abilities, so the burns would not heal as quickly, if at all. Often, she would have to leave the grounds for a while, usually just sitting against the tree across the way or on the odd occasion going into town to see what she could. She'd even talked to Urahara a few times. A strange man, but always an interesting one to talk too.

But that wasn't really answering the question.

"Yes," she conceded, noting that Ulquiorra had stopped his head bashing for the time being, seeming content to pace. "But I prefer it here, and I know you do too." She grinned at him slyly and giggled cutely. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes, which was more of a reaction Nel ever thought she'd get out of him so she accepted this not-really response.

"There is no need to be so crass," Ulquiorra stated, continuing his pointless pacing. Nel supposed she preferred it to whatever the hell else he was doing before, and for reasons she had come decided and accepted that she would never understand. And probably didn't want to.

"Me, crass?" she said, disbelief coloring her tone. "Who was the one fighting quite blatantly over sex at dinner?" she countered, feeling an overwhelming urge to throw something at Ulquiorra. Maybe the lamp. Close, easy to hold, would probably hurt if she threw it right and hard enough…

"You are right. Grimmjow should be more subtle."

Nel thought she would explode, she really did, and she might have if Grimmjow hadn't chosen that specific moment to make his reappearance.

"Oh thank god! Grimmjow, man am I glad to see you. Ulquiorra's going _insane!_"

"Where were you? Tell me this instant or I will be forced to take offensive action."

"All he does is pace and bitch and slam his head against a freakin wall, which is really getting annoying, by the way."

"By offensive action, I hope you know that I do not mean hurting you, per say, though I have ideas on how I could incorporate it."

"He keeps making sexual jokes! It's so frustrating-"

"I got new handcuffs and I would like to make sure they work-"

_Slam!_

Nel and Ulquiorra blinked together and trained their eyes on the closed door, sans Grimmjow.

"Ulquiorra, I think we scared him away."

Ulquiorra said nothing, merely turning around and banging his head on the closest available surface. Which happened to be the floor.

"Will you just fucking stop that!"

**XXX**

Grimmjow eyed both the demons suspiciously as he flipped the channels, not really watching it as he was more worried about being yelled at. He never thought he'd see the day when he'd be more worried about a verbal thrashing from two of the most powerful demons alive as opposed to being killed by them. But hey, life seemed to like fucking with him as of late so, really, this shouldn't have come as a shock.

After some coaxing and promises of the whole bloody thing to stop, Grimmjow had reluctantly gone into the house. It was evening then, after a very quiet supper thanks to a promise that they'd just shut up for a while, but Grimmjow had his doubts. He didn't think he could handle anymore baggage after his talk with Urahara.

Nel impatiently tapped her foot on the floor, clearly attempting to keep all of her comments to herself. Perhaps it was cruel of him to force her to keep quiet while she was already on edge, but fuck it, he was pretty on edge himself.

But, Grimmjow figured that being silent for two hours while clearly having so much to say was taxing on her, and he didn't really want her to explode from the noble effort she was clearly displaying.

"Nel, it's cool. Two hours are enough, really." Grimmjow grinned as she slumped in the chair and let out a relived cry.

"Grimmy I am so, so sorry for bombarding you the second you got in the door! I didn't mean it and I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. You don't need that pressure on you."

So, she had noticed. Grimmjow had always assumed that she was good at seeing beneath the surface, seeing what was going on in a persons' head, intuition or whatever it was, and was not surprised to, however subtly, find out she knew that something had happened.

But that wasn't the big thing in that sentence that caught his attention.

"…Grimmy?" he asked flatly. There was only one person who ever called him that, no matter how much Grimmjow tried to stamp it out. God damn Urahara. If it was catching, Grimmjow made his own personal promise to knock the damn name out of Kisuke's head painfully. Slowly. Oh so satisfyingly.

"Oops," she said, her hands flying to her mouth and her eyes popping open comically wide. "Sorry."

Grimmjow really wanted to put her through the ringer, he really did, but she just reminded him way too much of a kid being caught with her hand in the cookie jar, so much like his innocent moments when he was young that had come too far and between, that he just couldn't.

"Whatever," he muttered, turning away from her with a barely there blush crawling up his neck. Unfortunately, demons had far too accurate eyesight and the giggle was far too obviously directed at him.

But, of course, Nel wasn't the only one who noticed.

Grimmjow could just feel the heated, angry glare burning into the other side of his head.

"Something you want to say, Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow asked without looking at him. He had a feeling he'd actually be scared shitless if he did.

"What is there to say?" he asked in a dull voice, seeming somehow more lifeless than usual.

Grimmjow looked over to see Ulquiorra out of the corner of his eye. "Something," he offered, brow furrowing in worry. Ulquiorra was looking, well, sort of the same as the first time he met him. "Anything?" Grimmjow tried, looking him dead on. And dead may have been the best word. He seemed empty then. Grimmjow suspected it was a defence mechanism, reverting back to his old self when he did not want to face the truth. But what truth wasn't he facing now?

When Ulquiorra remained silent, Grimmjow sighed heavily. He really didn't want to deal with anything else that day, but it seemed he needed to have a talk with Ulquiorra.

"Nel?" he muttered, his tone indicating all she needed to know.

"Ok, I'll be back in a while. Don't break anything else!" she called with feigned happiness as she left the house. Grimmjow silently thanked her again for being so innately perceptive.

He turned back to the brooding demon. Brooding, yes. Because what else could he be doing leaning against the wall, staring into space, arms crossed, frown prominent and fingers drumming distractedly against his arms.

"Why are you such a pain in the ass?" Grimmjow sighed, stretching out on the couch.

"I am not, as I have yet to fuck you," came Ulquiorra's docile reply. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and motioned for Ulquiorra to come over to him. Ulquiorra hesitantly walked over to him and stood stiffly before him.

"Ulquiorra, lay down," he ordered tiredly. Really, they were mates. Ulquiorra should be used to this stuff by now.

When Ulquiorra was safely in his grasp, Grimmjow wrapped his arms around his frigid demon mate and stroked his hair slowly and gently.

"Alright, talk."

Ulquiorra seemed to have no reservations then. Something about being close to the one you loved must have affected even him.

"You and Nel are certainly becoming close," he pointed out. Grimmjow chuckled softly.

"You know, I never thought those green eyes would really live up to their name," Grimmjow countered. He tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was just too fucking funny!

"Keep laughing and I will rip off your testicles." As if to prove the threat, Ulquiorra tightly grabbed hold of them and squeezed hard enough to be very uncomfortable.

"You really like to threaten those, huh," Grimmjow noted, voice a bit higher than it should have been. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he forced a smile.

"This is no joking matter. I must deal with the fact that you and Nel have become much closer in a short amount of time and that your relationship involves physical and emotional aspects. I have seen her hug you on occasion and attempt to seduce you multiple times."

Grimmjow grunted, wondering if he could talk at this point. Ulquiorra, probably in reaction to the situation going on in his head-_whatever the fuck that is-_had tightened his hold bit by bit and Grimmjow, for the first time, wondered if he actually would be losing his balls that day.

"Well, yeah I guess," he said, still fully conscious of the fact that his precious gonads were on the line. "But it ain't romantic or nothin'," he said, easing his hand on to Ulquiorra's wrist and gently pulling his hand away from his oh-so sensitive appendages. "Kinda like a sister or something." He smiled a bit, mind wandering. "I've always wanted a sister."

And that really wasn't a lie. Throughout his life as a seer, he'd always wished there was someone to go through the trials that it entailed with him. Even back when he was a child, still living with his parents, he'd yearned for a sibling to go along with him. Someone to truly understand how hard it was to grow up in an environment like his, and someone to play with, really. A friend his age who got it. Someone that maybe even he could protect.

Sometimes he'd feel guilty for wishing such a hard life on another child, and he acknowledged that wishing for a kid sibling to alleviate his own strain was very selfish. But it was a desire that he could never fully quell, despite never being realised.

_Not really the issue, though._

"A sister," Ulquiorra said, seeming to test the word uncertainly. "I do not understand the desire for a sibling," he shrugged.

Grimmjow didn't really have a response. And it sort of made him sad. Ulquiorra had never felt the bonds of a family, an unconditional love. And wasn't that sort of a shame. Grimmjow tried to imagine his life without ever having a mother or father, adoptive or not. What would it be like?

_Bleak,_ he thought. _Life would be more a chore, getting through day to day, never really knowing that anyone cared but not caring in return…_

Why should anyone have to feel that? Is that how all demons felt? Alone in the world?

"Maybe Nel could be your sister too, then," Grimmjow mused softly. He could all but feel the fragile nature underlying Ulquiorra's steely exterior. He caught glimpses of it, but he knew that he would never understand it. He didn't want too.

"I have no desire for a sibling," he reiterated.

"No, you said you don't understand it," Grimmjow said slyly. "You don't know if you don't want it."

Ulquiorra was silent for a minute, pondering it. "Another human experience." Ulquiorra shifted in his arms a bit. "What would one do to show sibling feelings?"

_Sibling feelings, _Grimmjow thought, half in amusement and half in depression. _Like it's some sort of science experiment._

"I dunno. Never had one myself."

"Hmmm," Ulquiorra murmured, taking it as an affirmation that he got something right. "You know of familial love though. How do you express it?"

Grimmjow pondered it for a moment. How did he usually express familial love?

"Perhaps," Ulquiorra continued, "that the so called love I have seen you express towards your adoptive father is how I should go about expressing this type of sibling love to Neliel."

Grimmjow coughed discreetly into his hand. "What may not be the best example," he said, remembering all the times he'd tried to dismember Kisuke in a fit of rage. Not that the bastard didn't deserve it, though.

"In any case, if this is the model I am to go off of, shall I find some sort of weapon? I believe I saw something that piqued my interest earlier when you were speaking with Neliel." Ulquiorra started to get up. "In fact, I believe that if familial love is expressed in physical harm, then interacting as such with Neliel will be of little trouble to me at all."

It took a second for Grimmjow to process that.

"No no no no no, Ulquiorra you get back here right now. Hey, put that down! You are not showing any type of sibling feeling to Nel using a fucking blow torch!"

**XXX**

Stark leaned his head on his propped arm, resting on the desk in the sitting room located next to his personal bedroom. He saw no reason to really move from that spot as most of his problems would probably be arriving in the next three minutes.

_Well, two minutes and forty six seconds,_ he corrected, checking his precisely timed watch. Hallibel had gotten it for him, insisting that he became more time-aware. In truth, the only effect it had had was that a very bored Stark had memorized patterns of the Espada mansion to a tee so perfectly that he could predict when exactly certain events would occur. In any case, it served Stark's interests as far as anything ever did, which honestly was never that far.

_Two minutes and twenty nine seconds._ He decided to trace the patterns on the wall for a second before realising that there was actually no pattern on the wall. Just a blank slate. Stark chuckled at the irony of it. As if any of them truly had a blank slate.

_Ah, I shouldn't get into such a deep thinking process when I only have,_ he quickly checked, _two minutes and eight seconds of free time left. _

Well, he'd ponder on it later when he found himself staring at a wall somewhere in the future. He suspected it would not take too long. Lately it seemed that was all there was to do. Just stare at a wall. A blank wall. A slate that they could never have but would always crave.

_Enough,_ he commanded himself, and when Stark commanded something of anyone, it was done. Even if it was himself.

_One minute and thirty two seconds._ What took one minute and thirty two seconds? He supposed he could count to ninety two but that would be too obvious. No, he had to come up with something cleverer or else… Well, it couldn't be good.

_One minute and fifteen sec-_

"STARK!"

Stark blinked, eyes flitting to the open door, and the cracked drywall behind it, and back to his watch.

"What the hell were you thinking? I just heard that you shot Szayel _again!_ You do know that this is completely unacceptable, don't you? He is the only one who can run the damned machine that is tracking Neliel, the only one who can actually figure out exactly where she is, and yet you have the _audacity_ and _stupidity _to shoot him a second tim-"

"Could you leave for another thirty eight seconds?"

Hallibel stared at him, dumbfounded, shell-shocked, at a loss for words.

"_What?_" she hissed venomously.

Stark held up his watch-clad wrist and pointed to the circular clock. "You're early and it's sorta disconcerting."

Hallibel seemed to be at a complete loss for not only words but expressions. Her eyes were bugged, her mouth stuck half open and her entire body had frozen as if in paralysis. Time itself seemed to stand still.

"Now would be nice," he emphasized, making little shooing motions at her.

It was a testament to his abilities that he was able to dodge the chunk of wood ripped from the wall and thrown at him.

"Now we have to get that fixed," Stark sighed, resigned. "Can we really afford to deal with all these little things while we have much bigger things to worry about? You're really only making problems."

"_I'm_ making problems?" she shrieked, storming across the room.

Hallibel when she was mad was something truly frightening. She had such a calm demeanor and her controlled fury was surprising in its intensity yet veiled in superiority. She could walk through a bloody battle ground, corpses still twitching, and not bat an eye. That was Hallibel when she was mad.

When she was furious and on the brink of insanity, it was a bit different.

"You shot Szayel! AGAIN!" she shouted directly in front of his face, so close her sharper than average teeth grazed his nose. Her eyes were slightly veiny, like she'd been awake all night. "He is the only one who can use the machine tracking Neliel! Now that he is in the hospital wing, we have been delayed again! Tell me how we can possibly find her if the only person who can track her is lying injured in the hospital wing from a pointless gunshot wound in the hand! A _preventable _and _completely unneeded_ gunshot wound in the hand!"

Her breathing was erratic, coming in short puffs of air. Stark always thought she was hot when she got like this- all rage and passion and energy- but he assumed telling her so would result in something a bit different than a good lay. Like laying down and never getting back up.

"You're the one always telling me to assert my power. When I finally do it I get put through the ringer. Why must I suffer so?" he sighed dramatically and heaved himself off the chair, stretching like a cat. A novel idea, considering he was, for all effects and purposes, a wolf.

"Cut your self-righteous bullshit. Unless you can come up with some way to get Szayel back on that machine, I only want to hear grovelling from you."

Stark walked past her, not really sparing her a second glance.

Hallibel did not appreciate that. "And where are you going?" she snapped.

Stark still didn't look back. It just wasn't his style. "Checking on that tracker machine thingy."

"You won't be able to get into the computers tracking system! We won't be able to access any maps or direct coordinates."

This did not seem to deter Stark in the least.

Hallibel huffed indignantly and stalked after him. "I'm still pissed at you."

Stark chuckled a bit. "I know."

"Why did you shoot him? Couldn't you control yourself? There is a time and place for everything." She seemed to be accepting that the past was past. Most likely she'd beat the living shit out of him for it later.

He turned back then, stopping in mid-step and frowned slightly. "He took my queen."

_Why does that bother me so much?_

"You shot him over a _chess game?"_ she hissed.

"No," Stark said, turning back forward and continuing on. "Because he was talking down to me. He had to learn his place." Hallibel was silent. Even she knew that she had a limit she could push Stark to.

"Something's changing," he murmured. "Something's… wrong." He could feel Hallibel's questioning gaze burning a hole in the back of his skull but chose to ignore it.

Suddenly, he didn't want to go. He didn't want to check on Szayel's machine. Because in that instant, a feeling of deep, relentless foreboding overtook him and he could not handle the strain of it. He would not go. He would _not._

It didn't matter that he had no proof and that it had started with an ominous sense from a game. This _was_ all a game. They were the unwilling pieces being played by God and the Devil themselves. What was the game? What were the rules? Who was he anymore? Surely not himself. A piece. Usable. Manipulateable. Expendable.

That would mean they all had places, a hierarchy, if you will. A position in which one piece would be valued above another. He would be one of the more important pieces, of course. The King? Maybe. The King was the end of the game. But that was just it. What happened to the pieces, to everything else, when the king was destroyed? If you could bring Stark down, what would be the consequences?

Anarchy. Mayhem as demons fought for territory and power without the greatest and most powerful demon to lord over them and keep the already so shaky and fragile peace. Slaughters the likes of which the world had never seen. Blood running like rivers through the streets, red and black. Wars, destruction, death beyond comprehension.

It was not a game between God and the Devil. The Devil was playing by himself, and there was no other side. He played them all for fools, used naivety and emotion to destroy them all. Ulquiorra and Nel were only the catalyst. Only the beginning. Just a trap to draw the King out. An inescapable trap, he had no choice. And now the master of all anarchy, the devil or something else, God even, was laughing. Laughing. Unending laughter. Let the world burn, because their fate was already sealed.

_I am the final barrier between what holds this world together and what tears it apart._

It was not cockiness that drove his thoughts, but the inevitable truth. He was the last defence against the wrath of an all-encompassing war that would go on into forever and destroy life as they knew it.

And he could not control it. It was over. All he could do was stay alive. He could not hope to win. He could only hope to escape long enough to call a draw and stave off the coming bloodbath. Survive and run, survive and run. The King without any other piece.

_Without any other piece…_

"Stark?" Hallibel's voice awoke him from his tumultuous vision.

He hadn't realised they'd already arrived at Szayel's room. The one that would begin the game for real. It was all set up. There was no point in seeing what lay beyond that door. He knew.

"Aren't you going in?" she asked, standing beside him and looking at him expectantly.

"No," he answered gravely, leaning on the wall next to the door, hat covering his eyes.

"Why?" she asked. Her voice was calm and steady, but he could hear the underlying worry. Not for him, but for what would happen. Hallibel trusted his instincts and his intuition, and of course, his sometimes frighteningly accurate visions. She understood enough to know that more was at work here them any of them really knew.

"Because I already know what I would see."

Hallibel allowed it a moment to sink in before she entered the code to unlock the door, given to her by Szayel.

A beeping greeted their ears as the door was opened. Stark stared at the wall, eyes never moving from one specific spot. Or maybe they did. Who was he to tell one inch of white wall from any other?

Hallibel's eyes were wide and they darted between what she was most likely seeing on the screen to Stark's casually leaning posture. "How…" she whispered.

"We'd better assemble the others," Stark declared, making no actual move to remove himself from what was a mildly uncomfortable stance against the wall. Better mildly uncomfortable, though, than whatever would result from what he instinctively knew was happening. "They'll want to know."

Stark heaved himself from his position, unwillingly but it had to be done, and walked past Hallibel, still standing stock-still in front of the room. His coat shuffled around him, his spurs flashing occasionally in the harsh lit hallway and his hat covering most of his eyes. Not enough, though, to stop him from glancing once into the room and confirming whatever fate had doomed them to.

**Target Located**

**XXX**

Grimmjow found himself, later that day, glaring bloody murder at the shrill ringing tone the phone was giving off, as if he could actually come and get it. Normally, this would not bother him as he could get it, but would normally choose not to as to avoid his idiotic and admittedly insane adoptive father. Normally, he would have just answered the damn thing and gotten the conversation over with. Normally, he would have then gone back to whatever needed to be done around the grounds.

Normally, normally, normally. A thing of the fucking past.

So, as normally was now and forever more out the fucking window, he found himself holding Ulquiorra in a headlock under his right arm and had Nel thrown bodily over his left shoulder. Both were snapping at him, the tv was blaring and now the fucking phone was fucking ringing.

_As if fighting to kill demons wasn't bad enough._

Now, this all could have been avoided, but God hated him and the world hated him and fate hated him and he hated it all back with a vengeance, so he expected no mercy at this point.

Nel had come in at the worst possible moment, the moment when Ulquiorra was still holding the blowtorch and Grimmjow had yet to get it back from him or explain why spitting fire at Nel to prove he wanted to treat her as a sister would be a bad idea. One would think that would be common knowledge, but it was Ulquiorra and he was clearly immune to common knowledge.

So he shot fire at her.

Nothing says 'I want to be your brother' like 'burn fucker, burn.'

Naturally, Nel had gotten out of the way, meaning there was nothing to shield the curtains hanging over the window.

So his fucking curtains were on fire. Grimmjow had grabbed them down and managed to stomp out the flames- because nothing really solved all problems quite like violence- but had left Ulquiorra and Nel to their own devices. _Bad fucking idea._

Ulquiorra had tried to get her with the blowtorch _again._ This resulted in pissing Nel off all to hell and she started fighting back, assuming Ulquiorra was finally trying to kill her. Grimmjow didn't really see how she would come to the conclusion that he would kill her with a blowtorch. He'd always assumed Ulquiorra would be the type to stick his twisted black claw through your chest and rip out your still beating heart to let you watch it thump its final beats in front of your eyes. But burned alive was another sadistic approach so he wouldn't dock her too many points for assuming that.

So then he had to stop Nel from attacking Ulquiorra because she was actually fighting to kill. Unable to restrain her with her fast pumping feet-hooves, whatever,- on the ground, Grimmjow had thrown her over his shoulder, leaving her to beat her fists and legs against his chest and back, the punches not having the same oomph to them thanks to holy ground. God he loved holy ground.

But this still didn't stop Ulquiorra. Grimmjow had managed to kick the blowtorch away but Ulquiorra went after it. So, of course, he had to restrain Ulquiorra too, resulting in a weak headlock that probably wouldn't hold for much longer. Both were cursing and shouting at him to let them go and he was getting a severe headache, and then the phone started ringing.

Good fucking God.

Finally, after what felt like a million rings because time had clearly slowed down to let him thoroughly _enjoy_ this particular moment of his life, the answering machine picked up.

"_Grimmjow, so happy to see that you still have no intent on picking up for me. I'm crushed." _Grimmjow imagine he was pouting. But something was off about his teasing. There was an underlying tension throughout it, and he had called him Grimmjow, no nickname. It had him a bit on edge, and that was sorta the last thing he needed at that moment.

"_I know you don't really like it when I call in the middle of the day, but I thought you ought to know."_ A pause. _"You see, I just got off the phone with Yoruichi."_

Everything stopped. It just… didn't matter. Why was Kisuke telling him that she had called instead of her calling Grimmjow herself? Why all the tension? Why did he feel the need to tell him immediately?

"_She said, well, she's asked me to-"_ A deep sigh echoed over the phone. _"Look I can't really tell you over an answering machine message, it wouldn't be right. Call me back when you can." _Click.

That was it. Why was that it? That revealed absolutely nothing!

What had _happened?_

He came back to his senses and realised that Nel and Ulquiorra had stopped struggling. Apparently even they knew the weight of the situation.

"Just…" he started, giving them each a glare. "Behave yourselves. I have to call him." He had to. He absolutely and without any doubt _had _to.

Hearing murmured affirmations and not in the mood to drag out better responses, he released them both and walked up to the phone. It felt like a longer walk than it should have been.

"_Grimmjow?"_ came the voice across the line. Kisuke had to be anxious; he had not waited a single full ring to answer.

"Yea," he answered. Deadly calm. Calm before the storm.

"_Good. I'll try to make this short and sweet because I have a feeling this won't be easy on you."_ His day was going to get _worse?_

"_Yoruichi called me and told me she is having particular trouble with a band of demons in a town nearby where she is hiding. She has been injured to the extent that she cannot fight these demons on her own. Grimmjow, I am going to go help her. She has revealed her location to me and I am boarding a plane tomorrow morning."_

Grimmjow was still as a statue. Yoruichi was hurt? She needed their help? He'd see her again!

"Alright. I'll get my stuff and be ready by tomo-"

"_Grimmjow,"_ Kisuke's voice was heavy. "_You won't be coming with me."_

His mind blanked. There were no thoughts, because it wasn't possible.

"Not…coming," he repeated, trance-like.

"_Grimmjow, I'm sorry, but that's what Yoruichi wants."_

No no no no no no no no no no-

"What the fuck are you talking about?" It was almost more disturbing that what should have been heated words had no fire in them. No spark. No life.

"_I know you want to come, Grimmjow. But if you got there, we both know you wouldn't come back. You'd stay with her, no matter what it took to keep you there."_

Grimmjow's hand had begun to shake. "Oh yea? And you think you can fight these things by yourself? Yoruichi couldn't take them down so what makes you think you can!"

Fire: returned.

"_I'll have to try."_

"Wrong answer. If you think you're going alone and risking both your necks than-"

"I could go."

Grimmjow froze. Not stiffened, froze. As in he shivered a bit and then became immobile. Like the blizzard of the century had swept into his soul.

"Ulquiorra…"

"If it is the lives of your mother and father you fear on their own, I believe I would be able to alleviate it. A demon of my calibre could easily take on any rogue band of demons."

Grimmjow stared at him, eyes wide and confused. Ulquiorra? Go in his place?

"_Grimmjow, maybe he has a point."_

"You stay out if this!" Grimmjow snapped angrily into the phone before targeting his fury on Ulquiorra. "Why would you go? What do you owe to Yoruichi?"

"I owe her nothing," he shrugged, unaffected by Grimmjow's rage. "But I owe you a great deal. Yoruichi is important to you and should she be further injured or die, I believe you would be hurt as well. The same applies to Urahara." Grimmjow hated this logic. "If I were to go, you would not have to fear for their lives. No matter the demon's power, I have already proved my superiority by having lorded over them for so long. My place in the Espada is not to be discounted. I have earned the title as the third most powerful demon alive and I am quite willing to prove it."

Grimmjow huffed and turned away from him, glaring bloody murder at a sizable dent in the wall. _It's all gonna have to get fixed now._

"There's no reason I can't come! This is ridiculous." He didn't care that the sounded like a spoiled child. He wanted to see Yoruichi. Was that so wrong?

"_Living in caves in God knows where is not the life that Yoruichi wanted for you."_

"You know what?" he spat. "I'm getting pretty fucking tired of people deciding my life for me. Manipulating me," he sneered, knowing Kisuke would catch the shadowed meanings. Just because he had forgiven him and understood the reasoning behind being lied to for years, that didn't mean that he couldn't be fucking bitter about it. That was completely within his rights, he was sure. Earned, even.

"_I know, Grimmjow, and I'm sorry. But this isn't me. This is what Yoruichi wants. Far be it for me to go against her."_

And that would be the final straw, apparently.

Grimmjow swore that if his grip on the phone got any tighter, it would break.

"Grimmjow, I will go in your place," Ulquiorra reiterated. "I will be sure that both of your parents are returned to you unharmed."

"And what about you?" he asked sullenly.

Ulquiorra made a face at him and crossed his arms petulantly, shrugging him of easily. "What sort of weakling do you take me for?"

"_Grimmjow, this is a good option. I promised Yoruichi to play by her rules, and she did say you couldn't come. She never said anything about your demon lover boy. Besides, maybe spending some time with Nel will help her. She may need to be around a positive influence like you. Leaving may send her over the edge."_

God damn everyone on the motherfucking planet.

It was sound logic. Grimmjow had no argument, nowhere to turn.

"Fine," he growled between his teeth. "Do what you fucking want." He slammed the phone down, the whole thing flying to the ground from the force. Grimmjow whirled around and stormed off to his room, pissed beyond all possible reason.

Why was this happening? He felt betrayed by Yoruichi and Kisuke all over again. And now Ulquiorra would be leaving him. Even for a short time, the thought made him cringe. It would be difficult to be away from his mate for any extended period, he assumed.

He didn't want them to go, not when everything seemed to be on the brink of falling apart around them. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing.

_Why does that make me feel so sick inside?_

**XXX**

**AN: **Again, I apologize for the delay, but here is another chapter.

As always, my overwinded explanations. So this chapter is definately a transition chapter, a set up for the plot. I needed to find a way to get Urahara away for a while so that he wouldn't sense the demons when they come. I needed Ulquiorra gone too. You'll see, be patient.

Stark's vision is almost a metaphor of what he believes his future will become. Just a game piece, and even though he's the most important, he's still a piece. Out of all the characters, Stark may be the most important and have the most value in terms of what the character is worth, both in life and death. Which is interesting as he is the character, that out of all the main ones, I focus the least on. Still, the main characters aren't always the most important in reality and I wanted this story to be different from a lot of the norms. I think it gives the story it's own unique flavour and mood.

Now Grimmjow's depressed again, big shocker. But no worries, he has one big night with Ulquiora to make up for it. After all, he is leaving for a few days so they have to make up for lost time ;)

I also found a sister dynamic interesting, adding a family aspect, a very human experience, to these three characters that never really had one. They all have to struggle to understand not only their relationships with each other, but how to act in them. But maybe I'm overanalysing. I do that. A lot.

Well, as always, keep reading and keep reviewing and I'll keep updating! Next time the plot picks up! I love you all and thank you to my fabulous readers and reviewers! You keep this story going!


	15. Love and its' Aspects

**Chapter 15**

To satisfy any curiosity that may have existed to anyone listening to the storm raging in the master bedroom, yes. Grimmjow knew he was running out of things to throw at the wall and that just picking up already broken objects and hurling them again was not half as satisfying as watching the actual object break. He also acknowledged the fact that destroying things really wouldn't solve anything, but only briefly. After that he remembered that he didn't really care and threw something else against the wall.

To Ulquiorra and Nel's credit, they gave him the space he so desperately needed in that moment. He wasn't exactly sure what they were doing, if they had otherwise occupied themselves with the tv or some other whatever thing or if they were sitting back and listening to Grimmjow's rage run its course.

But enough of that, he had things to throw at walls.

He bent to pick up one of the larger shards of the already-shattered lamp and prepared to throw it, but so great was his anger that his grip was too much for the already fragile piece of décor and it broke into smaller pieces in his grasp, drawing thin but still painful lines into his skin. He glared indignantly at his palm as little streams of blood ran down it and dripped innocently onto the floor. He sighed, anger temporarily curbed as he grabbed a Kleenex and dabbed it, albeit rougher than he normally would have. Though this did nothing to alleviate the pain, making it worse really, he had no care for it. Let it burn, let it all burn for all he cared.

He vaguely heard his bedroom door being opened but paid it no heed, content to face away from the intruder and wallow in the unfairness of it all.

"Must you always be so impulsive in your sulking?" came the dead-tones voice of his ever-helpful lover. Grimmjow snarled at him warningly, aware that he sounded more the demon right then. "I suppose that deserves no answer, then."

"What? Come to wag your finger in my face and whine about me hurting myself? You're not exactly mother material," Grimmjow snapped, watching the blurred figure of Ulquiorra from the very corner of his eye.

"I should be at this point, what with you playing the part of the petulant child and all," Ulquiorra commented blandly. "Temper tantrums, mood swings and superiority complex included."

"Then leave for all I care," he growled over at him.

"I will be," he said. "Or did you forget our little conversation earlier?" A blood-stained lamp shard came flying towards his head. Ulquiorra easily caught it between his middle and pointer fingers, looking at it skeptically. "I choose to take that as a no."

"Just get out," Grimmjow hissed, tone clearly stating he had no patience for this sort of thing.

"Ah, but then we would be wasting this night," Ulquiorra said, in a tone that from anyone else but Grimmjow would have believed to be sly. But Ulquiorra wasn't exactly sly, per say.

"Come again?" he asked, turning so he could at least get a clear view of his cryptic mate.

"I am leaving tomorrow," Grimmjow's eyes darkened considerably and Ulquiorra held up a hand to stave off the coming rant. "I am not finished. I do not believe I will be gone for long. A few days, at most. Still," he said, moving to the bed and sitting close to Grimmjow. "We have not been mated for long and I believe I will find it difficult to be away from you for so long, leaving you in the hands of Neliel, of all creatures." Neliel's name had been said in a harsher tone and Grimmjow took note of it. "Therefore," he pressed onward. "Tonight will have to be memorable, or at least make up for the time spent apart."

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh really," he said skeptically. "Last I remember you were banned from sex until you could control that possessive little fuck inside of you." He accentuated his point by flicking one of the ivory-bone? Something else?- horns jutting from his head.

"The least you could do is try. I have yet to have a chance to prove myself."

"I banned you from it earlier today."

Ulquiorra hummed under his breath in consideration. "I do not wish to leave you like this; angered and betrayed by my demonic self," he said, playing idly with the disarrayed strands of blue hair falling beside his ear. "To part on such a note would sully the title of mate, and it would be my fault. And I have faulted greatly, so allow me to rectify this." He cupped Grimmjow's chin and made him stare directly into his eyes. "I only wish to please you and to earn your forgiveness. I only wish to make love to my mate before a time of parting and extended separation. I only wish to leave knowing that I have sealed our bond." He gave Grimmjow a very chaste kiss, filled with an innocent love and a plea for it to be returned, so different from the possessive, angry bites given during their last encounter.

But, one thing bothered him a bit.

"What do you mean, seal our bond? I thought we'd done that a few times now," Grimmjow said, unable to keep a slight smirk off his face.

Ulquiorra faltered a bit. To anyone else it would not seem as though he had as his facial expression didn't change and nothing in his appearance wavered. Grimmjow only knew by the momentary twitch of Ulquiorra's fingers as he still grasped his chin. Even this, though, was enough to alert him to his mate's uneasiness.

"Something on your mind?" he tried again, deciding to take an easier approach, perhaps work their way back up to what was apparently a deep seated issue within Ulquiorra.

"In terms of mates, we are still so young, our bond so new. We are but testing the waters of a mated pair. Like a child newly born, it is wondering and beautiful, but fragile. It is easily broken and must be tended with time and patience and love." His eyes flickered down a bit and he released Grimmjow from his grasp. "To be separated so soon after creating this new love, this child, as it were, seems irresponsible, even damaging." He paused and sighed deeply, presumably more for Grimmjow's benefit than his own. No doubt he had already pondered it thoroughly as he did with everything else. "We have love to help our bond, but we lack both the time and patience to let it grow stronger. I may be new to the idea of love, but I can understand this. To be away from you so soon is daunting, even painful.

"After mating, demon pairs often venture out and hide away from the world for months, sometimes years, to be alone and let their mating bond grow. Normally is it only to strengthen the bond, not any form of love. It is a building of trust and companionship, and of course it is lustful release. We two have so much more than this, we trust and we love, a foreign nature to most if not all demons. And yet, to be with you I must deny myself this instinctive need that has burned within me since that night. I cannot hide you away from the world as other demons because there are other ties that bind you to this place, which again is unlike any demon and therefore runs against the grain of my instincts. I would care not if it were just us two from now on, but that would be unfair to you. Why should my bond to you be any stronger than yours to Urahara or, despite the abandonment that so obviously torments you, Yoruichi? Even Neliel ties you to this place. Is my bond stronger, has it equal value? I would not be surprised if it was weaker than that to your parents, as all three components, time, patience and love are prominent. Why should I have any sway over you when I have only one aspect to offer you thus far?"

Grimmjow blinked for the first time in what must have been minutes. He could not bear to take his eyes off Ulquiorra, whose features had been wracked with more emotion than he'd seen for a while.

"Is that why you offered to go?" he asked quietly, not wishing to be harsh to his obviously disgruntled mate, but he could feel the fire building inside him. "Because you thought my ties to you were weaker than those to Urahara and Yoruichi? That I'd put your life before them?" Well, out the window with quiet, then. Clenched teeth, furrowed brows and his words hissing and biting did not make for such a soothing atmosphere. "What the fuck do you take me for!"

Grimmjow abruptly stood up and faced Ulquiorra directly.

"Beg pardon?" Ulquiorra asked, eyes never leaving Grimmjow.

"You think I could just choose between different people I love? What the fuck is wrong with you! I can love more than one person." He stopped at the disheartened look on Ulquiorra's face. "Not like that! God this is hard," he muttered. How do you teach the unfeeling about feelings? "Look, I love you. I do. I don't know how many times I have to say it but that won't change. I like kissing you and holding you and making love to you and only you.

"I love Urahara and Yoruichi, but not in the same way. I have absolutely no desire to hop into bed with either of them. I don't want to kiss them, either. But I do love them. I'd fight for them and die for them and I want to be around and with them. How can you ask me to choose between the lives of the people I love? I can't! I know you don't understand yet that you can love more than one person and that there are different forms of love, but maybe one day you will," he said, grasping Ulquiorra's shoulders to really hammer in the message. "And you'll be more human for it."

Ah, humanity. The ever unreachable goal for a demon. Usually it was an unwanted one. But he was staring into the eyes of the exception and he would be damned before he let him fall to the depressing pits of unfeeling that all other demons had sunk into.

"I suppose," Ulquiorra said, shrugging. "But this is not the time to discuss such things. We will have time after I return. As for now," he said, taking hold of one of Grimmjow's hands and pulling his flush against him. "We have business to attend to."

"I didn't agree to this," Grimmjow huffed.

"You did not need to." Ulquiorra kissed him soundly and maneuvered them both so he was the one on top. Grimmjow was too disoriented to really notice until his back hit the bed. When he did, however, he immediately put a hand up, poking Ulquiorra in the forehead while his left eye twitched disturbingly.

"What is happening here?" he asked, teeth slightly gritted.

Ulquiorra watched his twitching eye in mild fascination. "You seem to be having some sort of epileptic fit."

"No," he said, a slightly shaky finger waving in Ulquiorra's face. "Not that."

"Ah," he said, contemplating briefly on whether the truth would be worth the inevitable rant. Deciding that with Grimmjow, physical speech was a more effective means of both telling and convincing him of anything as opposed to actually telling him anything.

Ulquiorra quickly crashed his lips against Grimmjow's with enough force to push his head deep into the fluffy pillow beneath his oddly colored head. He roughly ran his hands up Grimmjow's chest, taking the shirt with it to reveal his appallingly beautiful muscles, looking as though they were etched by whatever God had created him specifically and with great, intimate detail. He assumed it was either a very lustful God or a very playful one to make Grimmjow attain such a body. Perhaps playful was more likely, if he was being taken not only by another man, but a demon. Who would have thought?

But enough of that. Ulquiorra played his long fingers along Grimmjow's pectorals, his eyes alight with an almost childish glee. Such strength brought out an innate attraction, as demons lived in a dog-eat-dog world and a strong mate was a great asset to attain. However, it also brought out a submissiveness within him that he, until that moment, had been unable, or unwilling, to fight. It was an honor to submit to such a dominant mate with such a masculine presence. Now, though, he wished to claim his mate as his own and prove his own ownership. He wanted Grimmjow to remember in his absence, no matter how short or long, who he belonged to.

A bit possessive, he admitted, but to even admit such a thing was progress to some extent.

_No more of this,_ he ordered himself. _I refuse to be sidetracked._ He assumed at one point in this reformation of self that he would gain a normal train of thought. But _enough!_

Ulquiorra gently scraped his nails up and down Grimmjow's washboard stomach in an attempt to distract both his lover and himself. Whether or not Grimmjow was accepting or not of this position seemed moot at the moment while he was getting so into it. Ulquiorra suddenly grabbed hold of one of Grimmjow's legs and secured it around his waist.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Grimmjow snapped, jerking away from the heated kiss. Ulquiorra huffed. Would they go no further because of his stubbornness?

"Gotta take these off first," he said, quickly shedding himself of his pants.

Now, Ulquiorra was not displeased with Grimmjow's willingness to comply with his domination, that was most definitely not the look on his face. No. He was shocked. Not even at his submissiveness, but the ease of which he gave in. How very uncharacteristic of him. He would have marvelled at it longer, but exactly what he would be marvelling at came to his attention, that is to say Grimmjow's impending submissiveness, and he came to the very abrupt decision that he could care a less about pondering the subject anymore. God forbid he ponder too long and lose this chance.

As he was a demon with more than average a demonic appearance, he found no true meaning in wearing clothing. Certainly, his allusion to general humanity posed in clothing, but not his true self. He'd always seen it as a burden in any case.

"If you did not wear clothing, we could be further along," Ulquiorra pointed out while Grimmjow whipped off his jeans.

"Patience is a virtue," he recited, grabbing Ulquiorra's head roughly and pulling him into a heated kiss, his head falling back into the pillows as Ulquiorra covered his body. "And is rewarded accordingly." He smirked hugely.

Ulquiorra looked around, a bit disoriented, before his eyes landed back on Grimmjow. "Well then," he said, shrugging. "That's that I suppose." He roughly went back to kissing Grimmjow.

Now that Grimmjow was suitably nude, he thanked the heavens above, or more likely the fires below as lust was not such a heavenly emotion, that Grimmjow chose not to wear those useless undergarments, Ulquiorra could get down to serious business. He ran a single finger down his lovers' body, starting at his neck and going down to his already growing erection. Ulquiorra tore his mouth away and attached it instead to his neck, nipping gently, very gently. To lull him into a false sense of security, or course. After a few minutes of coddling his neck teasingly, Ulquiorra bit down full force and sucked eagerly. Grimmjow was always in such a hurry to mark him, he wished to return the favor. Then again, he was also very possessive of his lover and wanted to make sure that anyone who dared lay eyes on him would know he was already taken.

He played the fingers on his left hand along his now straining erection as he flicked his nipple back and forth.

"Fuck," Grimmjow groaned. "Why haven't we done this before?"

Now, there was a repertoire of responses he could have gone for, but he decided against it. Instead he made a non-committal 'Hmm' sound before refocusing his attentions on other matters. Like Grimmjow's neck. He ran two fingers over Grimmjow's cock, ever so slowly and ever so lightly. By the sounds emitting from Grimmjow's throat, he didn't appreciate the teasing touches.

Ulquiorra nipped at Grimmjow's ears to keep his attention elsewhere as he began to pump him harder. He ran his other hand slowly down his lovers back, now arching a bit off the bed, as it headed for its inevitable goal.

Ulquiorra squeezed Grimmjow's ass with satisfaction, knowing fully well that Grimmjow truly worked out every ounce of muscle on his body.

Grimmjow jerked a bit beneath him, though the sound that came from him only served to encourage him further. He slowly poked a finger into Grimmjow's entrance, pumping in time with his actions on Grimmjow's cock.

Grimmjow panted harshly, gripping Ulquiorra's head and arching into him roughly. His eyes were squeezed closed, basking in the pleasure coming from his dominating mate. Ulquiorra knew he was completely at his mercy, and he would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy the feeling. But he also knew that he could not abuse such a privilege. Perhaps he had come further than he assumed, having such compassionate thoughts. And then Grimmjow moaned out his name and all those thoughts were replaced with lustful ones again.

He added a second finger and pumped a bit faster and a bit deeper, ears alert for any signs of discomfort from Grimmjow. He felt Grimmjow's muscles tighten beneath him and he paused in his actions. He raised his head and peered into his lovers' eyes, concern etched into his own, or as much as he could express having very little experience. Grimmjow's eyes slitted open and he breathed deeply, trying to keep the pain down.

"Too much?" Ulquiorra whispered, trying to disturb the moment as little as he could.

"No," Grimmjow said, chest rising and falling roughly. "I'm fine. Keep going."

Ulquiorra hesitated. "It will be worse," he reminded him.

Grimmjow gave him an annoyed/pissed off look that he should not have been able to do with two fingers shoved inside him. "Stop babying me," he said flatly.

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Very well," he said nonetheless.

He pulled his fingers out and slowly pushed himself into what he hoped was a properly prepared entrance. Grimmjow hissed out in pain and gritted his teeth against the invading presence within.

Ulquiorra groaned in pleasure, putting his all into not letting go and pounding into the body beneath him. Wait, wait, wait…

"Go," Grimmjow's voice sounded in his ears.

It was all the encouragement he needed as he pulled out and thrust harshly back in, attempting to nail his mate's prostate and send both of them into fits of pleasurable abandon. It only took a few more thrusts and he finally managed to hit it, if the harsh cry that emitted from Grimmjow was any indication. He pulled Grimmjow into a sloppy kiss, no attempt made to make it decent or anything more than the release of the pleasure building inside of them. A pre-emptive strike, of course, before the true release of pleasure occurred.

Ulquiorra's claws dug into Grimmjow's shoulders as he seemed to be holding on for dear life, ready to explode.

Grimmjow was in no better state, gasping and panting harshly, trying to stave off his pleasure and come out a stronger uke for it. A useless venture if there ever was one.

Minutes passed, seconds maybe, neither knew. All they knew was soon, Grimmjow called out what Ulquiorra would have liked to believe was a scream with his name mingled in somewhere as he followed close behind.

Ulquiorra collapsed onto Grimmjow's chest, tired and spent.

"You… giving up… so soon?" Grimmjow panted, drawing deep breath between the words of his broken sentence.

Ulquiorra dredged his eyes open again to see Grimmjow's piercing blue stare. "Hardly," he drawled, not one to drag on a sentence he lose face in.

It was a long night, filled with cries and pants and memories that both would carry with them until the time of their rejoining.

**XXX**

"You are all relentless. I should be in a hospital bed recovering, not tracking demons and getting planes ready," Szayel whined crossly. Stark flicked a bit of the wheat stalk he'd been chewing on at him.

Szayel sighed and went back to the large computer screen before him.

The four remaining Espada lounged in Szayel's room while the demon scientist himself pinpointed Neliel's exact locations and prepared for their own journey to retrieve her.

Szayel was less than pleased about the situation. He had been dragged out of recovery to get into his computer. While the other Espada could see that Neliel had been located, they could not get into the computer to find out where.

Enter disgruntled scientist, constantly bitching about his poor aching hand. Stark was getting a bit tired of it, really.

"Get on with it, Szayel," Hallibel deadpanned, eyes trained on the screen on front of them, encompassing the entire wall.

Szayel gave her a look, slitted eyes and a distinct frown in place. "I could be doing this faster if my hand wasn't in so much pain right now," he snapped, holding up a bandaged hand with blood soaking through. Stark rolled his eyes and fisted a hand in the pocket of his grey trench coat.

"How long?" he asked in a bored fashion. He just wanted to get this over with. He wanted Neliel to be back, and for that matter Ulquiorra as well, and then he could get back to business as usual. That being sitting around staring at the ceiling contemplating deep, philosophical thoughts.

Ha.

Perhaps he should have tried to drag this out a bit after all.

"You don't even get to talk! This is all your fault!" Szayel screeched, hands waving frantically in front of his face making shooing motions. He had always been something of a diva.

"As I recall, I didn't let Neliel walk out the door so easily."

Szayel huffed and went back to work. "I just wanted to know where she was going. Curiosity and all that."

"Bitch and moan, bitch and moan," Nnoitra trilled. He sat against one of the two lab desks in the room, leaning casually with his cheek against one propped up hand, drumming his fingers along his cheek in a bored fashion. Clearly, he was thinking of other things. "I just want her back here in one piece."

Stark could all but see the possessive intent behind Nnoitra's words. Neliel was his to break, his alone. And he would break her one day. If what Hallibel had told him was true, she was already teetering on the precipice of madness. And was that not a breaking in and of itself? What demon wanted to Descend? Nnoitra would likely take pride for a time in breaking her mental state and, after a while, grow bored with it and break something else of hers.

But that was a matter for another time. Likely, though, Stark would never address it. He didn't really believe in poking his nose into other's lives. He, of course, expected the same courtesy. And, of course, he never really got it. But it was nice to dream.

"I want to go back to bed," Szayel grumbled, typing away at the keyboard. "And I would too, if Stark didn't have that stupid gun pressed against the back of my head."

True enough, Stark was lazily pointed a cocked gun at the base of Szayel's skull, finger tapping the trigger in an uninterested fashion. Despite this, Szayel still found the strength inside to be snippy with him. Stark both commended him on his bravery and bashed him on his stupidity.

"Bus alas, he does. And here we find ourselves," Hallibel quipped, glaring daggers at him. Strange how she could seem so icy cold when her eyes could all but spit fire. Though Stark would admit that it was nice not to have that gaze pinned on him for once in his life.

"Where is she, anyways?" Stark asked, attempting to relieve some of the tension. Now, one might say that because Stark was pointing a gun at Szayel threateningly that he was actually the cause of the tension in the first place. However, if anyone was to say that, Stark would have told it to shut up and then shot it for good measure. Therefore, he was obviously not the problem.

Szayel glanced back at him, shifting the gun slightly with the movement. He kept a straight face and made no indication as to feeling threatened by the cool metal digging into his skin uncomfortably, enough to leave a mark. However, being threatened by the most powerful demon was no matter to be taken lightly and Stark assumed he was at least a bit worried over his fate.

"Somewhere in the lovely United States of America, if you must know. In a rather boring, long stretch of land in Colorado. Apparently she decided to forego any pretty scenery in lieu of endless grasslands where if you see a tree on the horizon it becomes a state landmark. It really isn't close to anywhere that could be even considered important. She seems to be at most close to a little town, the name of which I am bringing up, thank you very much," he said indignantly.

Stark looked up at the screen, animated with pinpointing markers and little green blips that could just as well represent one thing as anything else. He assumed it was centers of people, big or small, but he couldn't be sure. Text appeared at the top of the screen.

"Hueco Mundo," Szayel said, shrugging. "Some back-water town in the middle of nowhere. It is the closest center, if you can even call it that, to her location. Or at least, the location of the tracking bug."

This caught his attention slightly, but not half as much as Nnoitra's.

"Say that again," Nnoitra hissed. "And expand." His eyes were dangerously slitted and promised pain if Szayel said something he did not want to hear.

Szayel outwardly seemed unaffected by the tone. But Stark caught a slight bob of his adams apple in his throat, indicating nervousness. "As a precaution, the tracker falls off after 48 hours on the target, or at the first touch associating body heat. It's a safety measure to prevent it from being found."

"So," Nnoitra said, grapping the collar of Szayel's shirt and hoisting him off the chair and the ground altogether. "What you're telling me is that this is only where she might have been weeks ago?" Nnoitra grabbed his neck with his other hand and cut off any air supply he hand left.

Szayel choked a bit and tried to speak, but was unable to collect any air. He gasped slightly and clawed weakly at Nnoitra's arms.

"Nnoitra," Hallibel said sternly. "Release him."

Nnoitra sneered at her but dropped him into a heaving mess at his feet. Though he never really did like the status quo of the Espada, he respected the power associated with the positions. Nnoitra would not defeat Hallibel in a fight and had no intentions of dying yet.

"Szayel," she continued. "Is this true?"

"To some extent," he said when he caught his breath, standing up and brushing himself off. He straightened his glasses and sighed when he noticed a crack in one of them. Now was not the time, though. "However, I can track her movements until that point. She had been on a non-stop trek towards this location at a constant pace until she reached this town, after that she stopped. The bug fell off roughly two and a half hours later, with her remaining in the town until that point. Judging from that, I would say that it was her destination and we should at least investigate it."

"Fine then," Nnoitra said, glaring at Szayel one more time. "What are we waiting for?"

"Our plane," Szayel said, smiling slightly. "I have set it up so that our private plane will be taking us as soon as it is ready. There are repairs being done on it and it will be ready tomorrow at about noon. We depart from the hanger at that point. We will land in Denver, Colorado at a specific meeting point with a demon guide who is familiar with the area and we will go directly to Hueco Mundo. Keep in mind that these things take a bit of time to set up," Szayel chastised. "You should be grateful that I even do this as fast as I do."

"Ever the humble one," Stark sighed, holstering his gun. "Keep on it then. I'm going to bed."

Hallibel grabbed his arm. "You will stay here and observe until the process is completed-"

"No," he said flatly, glaring at her. "I will retire and rest before tomorrow. We will all need rest before tomorrow."

Hallibel looked at him oddly. "Neliel poses no threat to us. We are stronger than her alone, much less together."

"I know," he said, gazing back at the screen. "But this will not be as easy as we all assume."

Hallibel let him go, not questioning him further. He always had possessed an almost-ability of sensing things.

He scoffed inwardly at the idea of an almost-ability. A word of his own design, he supposed.

Premonitions were laughed at, mocked. Anyone claiming to have a premonition was declared

Descended and usually killed. The future was unstable, undecided, unknown. There were a million possibilities and a million different way things would turn out. To believe that one could have a premonition was to believe that there was only one possibility, no choice, no hope. That their destiny was set in stone.

Fear kept the demons from believing in fate. Because to believe in premonitions was to doom themselves to a world without a chance of freedom from themselves. What were they, then, in a world where fate existed? Just pieces being played by other hands. Controlled, imprisoned, playing out their pre-determined moves before they died.

Demons feared Stark for his power, his might, his position as the most powerful demon of them all. Hallibel feared him as well, but not for his power. She did not fear his overwhelming strength because he would never use it on her. She feared him for what he represented; A premonition. Worse than death was a life imprisoned. Worse still when you had hope for something more.

Stark hadn't realised it but he'd already walked halfway back to his room. He wondered how he could tell that anyways. No hallway looked any different than any other. Hadn't Neliel thought that? Wasn't that the reason for her impending Descending?

Well, that and Nnoitra. But the point was it was something.

_Could I be Descending?_ Stark frowned, stopping in his tracks. He looked directly to his left at the blank white wall. No pattern, no painting, just blank. It was irritating, perhaps, but not to the point that he would obsess over it.

Still…

A resounding bang was heard throughout the mansion, and all was silent for seconds, maybe even a minute. Stark stood poised with his arm straight out and the loud gun aimed at the wall. A bullet hole, perfect but for the cracks that struck out of it like veins, now stained the otherwise white wall. Veins was a good analogy. Veins that brought life to the wall, to the bullet hole, the heart of the difference. Giving something akin to life.

No doubt it would be fixed by tomorrow but it did not bother Stark too much. By that, he concluded that he would not Descend from his white surroundings.

It would probably be something much, much worse.

**XXX**

"Grimmy," came a hazy voice into Grimmjow's heavy slumber. He thought he'd imagined it, or half dreamed it since he was only half awake. "Grimmy," it came again, along with an unceremonious jab to his side. He grunted a bit and rolled over, burying his head into freezing bare skin beside his own. It felt nice as he was quite warm. "Grimmy," repeated again and an unpleasantly harsh jab with what he recognized as not a finger but something like a piece of wood against his other side now.

"GRIMMY!" the voice screeched and a foot made miserably painful impact with the back of his head. So much so that he promptly fell of the other side of the bed with an "Oomf!"

Grimmjow finally opened his eyes and found himself staring at a puzzled demon looking over the side of the bed. Big green eyes blinked at him and, if he really squinted and turned his head a bit, he could almost believe he saw a quirk of Ulquiorra's lips, a hint of a smile. Almost.

"Good morning," Ulquiorra said in as pleasant a voice as he'd ever heard.

"Grimmy! And I'd thought you were dead," said his antagonist as he rounded the side of the bed.

_Oh joy._

"The fuck are you doing here Kisuke?" he huffed, content to stay on the floor for the time being.

"Not happy to see me, my little blueberry?" Kisuke asked in a childish manner, waving that god forsaken stupid fan flamboyantly in front of himself. If he wasn't so desperately in love with Yoruichi, Grimmjow would wonder if he was gay.

"When have I ever been happy to see you?" he growled, flipping his adoptive father off rudely.

"Oh, you always have to ruin my good mood," he huffed moodily, waving dismissively with his fan. Grimmjow at that moment made it his mission to destroy that fan with extreme prejudice at the first available opportunity.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said, calling attention back to himself. "You are still naked."

Grimmjow looked down at himself and found that Ulquiorra was quite right.

_Fantastic._

"What a lovely doodle, Grimmy! You always were so proud of it." Grimmjow could feel his eyebrow twitching.

What made it even worse was that he couldn't get up.

Ulquiorra seemed to notice his dilemma too and this time he didn't have to squint or turn his head at all. There was definitely an upturn on his lips. Damn cocky demons.

"Stop gawking at it and help me the fuck up!" Grimmjow howled. Kisuke started cat calling instead. Ulquiorra, seeming to take pity on the poor seer and offered his arm. Grimmjow took it gratefully with a slight smile.

More cat calls.

Grimmjow shuffled back under the covers and glared at Urahara heatedly.

"Alright, so what do ya want?" Grimmjow asked gruffly.

Urahara sighed and put away his fan. Never a good sign. "I'm afraid I'm here to take Ulquiorra with me." He glanced over at Ulquiorra's somber expression. Not that you could really tell unless you were Grimmjow. But being Grimmjow, he could tell. And Urahara must have sensed it.

_Oh yea, he's a sensor._ He probably sensed the change in Ulquiorra's reiatsu. Sort of a more depressed feeling. _I think. Sensors can do that, right?_

"Unless, or course, you don't want to anymore."

Ulquiorra looked over at Grimmjow before staring intently at his claws clasped firmly in front of him.

"I shall still go," he declared, nodding his head as if to assure himself.

Urahara nodded and turned, heading for the door. "I'll give you two some time," he said before closing the door behind him.

Grimmjow stared after him for a few moments before turning his attentions back to what he assumed was his disgruntled and depressed lover. Though that hardly seemed out of the ordinary.

"You don't have to go," he said, reaching a hand out to Ulquiorra and lightly holding onto his shoulder. Ulquiorra had yet to tear his eyes away from his clasped claws.

"I want to, though," he said, eyes flickering to Grimmjow's before looking back down.

Grimmjow lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I would like to understand familial love," he said determinedly. "And perhaps meeting your family, the people who invoked such feelings within you, would help me to understand them as well. As they are not your real parents, you have no inclination to love them at all as you would your true parental figures. Therefore, if they could inspire such feelings within you, perhaps I could understand what you see in them as well."

Grimmjow admitted, he hadn't seen that coming. But, in a way, he understood.

"I would like to see Neliel as a sister. I would like to see, perhaps one day, Urahara as some sort of father as well. Although," he shrugged. "His immaturity may be the greatest hindrance in that regard."

Grimmjow chuckled. "Not denying it," he said. But it sounded hollow, bitter. "Why are we like this, anyways? We'll see each other in a couple of days."

Ulquiorra looked at him, searching his eyes, memorising him, it seemed. "Perhaps humans have a similar possessive nature to that of demons," he suggested. "Perhaps, we're not so different after all."

"You know," Grimmjow said with an uneven smile, pulling up higher on one cheek in a quirky sort of grin. "If you woulda said that to me a few months ago, I'd a socked you right across your little white jaw," he laughed. "But now…" he trailed off, face setting into a softer smile. "I'd like to believe so."

Ulquiorra lifted an eyebrow at him and smirked. _Smirked. _The most fucking disturbing thing he'd ever seen. "Except for the killing sprees, cannibalistic tendencies and general insanity."

"Well yea," he conceded. "Except for that." He pondered for a minute. "Though, we have a couple of those too."

"However, it is not exactly the norm for humanity as a whole."

Grimmjow gave him a dead-eyed look.

"Too far?"

"It's just not earning ya any points."

There was silence for a moment.

"When you see Yoruichi…" Grimmjow started, hesitating slightly. "Can you just tell her something for me?"

Ulquiorra perked up and listened intently at his grave and serious tone.

"Tell her that I miss her, and I love her. And that I just… I really hope I'll be able to see her soon." Grimmjow's eyes had turned down and he brushed his bangs out of his face. A useless endeavor if there ever was one; those annoying strands of hair would never stay where they were supposed to. And he just couldn't bring himself to cut them.

Ulquiorra's eyes softened with concern at his mate's obvious distress. "I shall," he promised sincerely, kissing Grimmjow's temple. He started to get out of bed but Grimmjow grasped his hand tightly.

"Look, I don't really wanna get all mushy in front of Kisuke again. Bastard'll just start cracking jokes or something. So I just wanna say that, er," he said, scratching the back of his head and suddenly finding a particular spot on the carpet that seemed altogether fascinating for inexplicable reasons that he didn't choose to question. "That I really love you, and I'll miss you. Even if it is only for a few days."

He heard Ulquiorra sigh and felt a cold claw grasp his chin, pulling his head back up too look his demon lover in the eye. "There is no need to be so bashful," Ulquiorra said as he stroked cheek gently. "I shall miss you as well. It is natural for mates, as well as I assume it is for humans in love."

Grimmjow half-smiled half-smirked and kissed Ulquiorra soundly once more. "Alright, time to get up, I guess."

Ulquiorra easily swept off the bed, wings spinning around and coincidentally smacking Grimmjow. In the left side.

"Mother of God! I'll never heal!"

Ulquiorra blinked and realised the problem. "Ah, my apologies."

Grimmjow glared at him furiously. He swung his legs over the side, but found he couldn't really balance himself on them.

"Fuck," he muttered. He heard an odd sound coming from the other side of the bed. Sinister, demented and containing a note of sadistic glee.

Ulquiorra was snickering.

"Will you stop laughing at me and get me off this fucking bed!"

**XXX**

Half an hour later found the four on the lawn, Urahara and Ulquiorra standing opposite of Grimmjow and Neliel on either side of the fence barring the sacred ground from the normal.

"Well, I suppose we'll see you both in a couple of days," Urahara said, dusting his hat off lightly and positioning it strategically to hide a Grimmjow-induced bump poking out of his head. Apparently he really hadn't appreciated the impromptu wake-up call. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes, in his head of course; must keep up appearances. He really hadn't appreciated it either.

Grimmjow gave a sharp nod to Urahara. "Not too rusty, I hope," he said with a sneer-like smirk.

"Bah, I never forget," Urahara said, waving him off with his fan. Grimmjow was eyeing it in great distaste and Ulquiorra assume that it's time on earth was coming to an end. "Benihime would never let me down."

"'S not Benihime I'm worried about," Grimmjow huffed, crossing his arms childishly.

"Awwww," Urahara crooned, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "You do care!"

"Don't read too much into it," Grimmjow dismissed him with a grumble and a heavily sarcastic roll of his eyes.

Ulquiorra turned his attention fully to Grimmjow, gaining his full attention. "Do not do anything rash in my time away," he warned, eyes narrowing slightly. "I'd rather not have to play you're knight in shining armour."

Grimmjow chuckled. "Aint you more like the monster that guards the princess?"  
>Ulquiorra frowned. "You are admitting to being a princess, then," he teased. "Very well, I look forward to being on top more often."<p>

Neliel sputtered and blushed heavily, averting her eyes. Urahara smirked and waved his fan eagerly. Grimmjow glared as if trying to burn him on the spot.

"Anyways," he snapped, teeth bared. "Be safe, good luck, and we'll see you when you get back."

Ulquiorra and Urahara nodded and turned to the black car behind them. Urahara easily slid in, belying a grace that Grimmjow had always wondered about at times. Ulquiorra looked to do the same but paused briefly, glancing back at his mate. Ulquiorra couldn't help but take in all of Grimmjow one last time before he left. It didn't matter that they would see each other soon. It was a type of separation. Hours had been hard, days would be torture.

_Until we meet again,_ he thought, willing the words through the mate bond to his lover. _I shall count the minutes. _

Grimmjow nodded slowly, his eyes softened considerably.

_And I the seconds, _Ulquiorra heard resonating within him. A very soft, small smile graced his features and he found the strength to finally enter the car and watch longingly as the love of his life disappeared behind them into the horizon.

**XXX**

Okay, so I'll start off by saying how sorry I am for not updating in a loooong time. Between work and friends and trying to keep my parents from finding out I do this, it's been a bit of a struggle to keep this up. Not to mention, inspiration was being quite the stingy little bitch lately. However, I did manage to finally gain some inspiration and have therefore written this chapter.

Okay, so first thing I'll clear up is that the Espada are not coming today! When they said tomorrow at noon, it means that Grimmjow will actually get a day off from craziness. And a day off with Nel, no I guess not really away from craziness, technically. I really wanna expand on that front as well, really make it seem like a brother-sister dynamic.

As you can probably tell, I love exploring some weird elements of life, like insanity (as if it wasn't obvious) and fate. I like looking at different types of insanity and I like exploring the idea of fate and how it could be a bad thing more than a good, and how it could exist or not and the effect the unknown can have as well. To me Stark is a good character to get this across, because you can't really tell if he's right or if he actually is going crazy. He himself doesn't know so I like creating more ambiguity in a topic that is already ambiguous, or drawing focus to how unknown something can be and the fear something like that can create. Confused? Yea, me too.

Anyways, Ulquiorra is seme! For all you who were looking forward to Ulquiorra getting aggressive, there ya go. I don't know if I really did him justice but always remember I'm a beginner at this and I've never written a story before. I am trying though and I really do adore this story. It's like a baby I've watched grow up, it just keeps surprising me.

Attack of the plot! The Espada are coming, Ulquiorra and Urahara are off to see Yoruichi and Grimmjow is left to sulk and deal with Nel. And yes, I intend to write a little blurb on the meeting with Yoruichi. Hopefully I do her justice.

Love you all, keep reviewing and keep reading and I'll write as fast as my little fingers can go!


	16. Memories, Memories

**Chapter 16**

Grimmjow slumped to the couch, scratching his head in a bored fashion. He knew he should probably do something, but it all seemed so pointless. Even if he cleaned, it would only get dirty again.

A five-year olds reasoning? Yes, but don't we all wish to return to childhood?

Was it any better, though, to meander on depressing thoughts? Well Grimmjow seemed to think so as he slumped into a heap of self-pity and lingering teenage angst over, once again, being abandoned by his parental figures.

Yoruichi had chosen not to send for him, just Urahara. It seemed so unfair somehow. Wasn't he capable? Had he not proven himself?

Discounting, of course, taking in two of the most powerful demons as houseguests/sister figures/lovers. But other than that, he was totally capable of handling demons.

The petty, sarcastic voice in his head added a little _in bed_ to the end of that sentence and Grimmjow decided to think on another subject.

He heard someone bustling about in the kitchen, humming a lively, if somewhat off key, tune. By process of elimination, he deduced it must be Nel.

_Real detective work, that one._

Despite his less-than eager attitude, he decided that she could at least use some company.

Hoisting himself up, he walked without his usual near-feline grace to the kitchen. He'd come to believe that even accidentally sneaking up on Nel was an experience he would like to avoid. He didn't really like demons sneaking up on him, so he returned the same courtesy to her as he believed she felt similarly towards seers. And what demon wouldn't, really. Though he never expressed any such delicacy around Ulquiorra, suiting his demonic tendencies and basic instincts in his own self-interest just as much as his mates, he had never really needed to. Ulquiorra had always been able to sense his presence, or so it seemed. Perhaps his hearing was so far above and beyond that he sounded like a train wreck even when he was sneaking. But he couldn't deny he felt a weight or a presence when near Ulquiorra, whether the result of the mating or some other unexplained force at work, and never had to think too hard on whether he was near or not. He had always _known._

Although, he had never actually been away from his mate until now, so perhaps the emptiness he felt, the lack of presence, was to be expected. Was this what all couples felt, or was it because of the bond, or, again, something beyond his control or human understanding?

And, most likely, he would have continued in that train of thought long into the hours of the morning and beyond, as was his oh-so philosophical nature on the truth of all the fucked-upness in his life, had he not been greeted by an odd, somewhat traumatizing sight.

Nel, fourth most powerful demon in existence, feared killing machine laden with diabolical intent and past blood-shed that had most likely led to many accounts of mass murder, and if not then the kills would inevitably add up to it, was cleaning his kitchen with a feather duster, reaching into the dark crevices of where the walls met the ceiling, wearing one of his bandanas to tie her hair back, despite the supposedly frustrating bang hanging in her face.

And nothing else.

To be clear, just wearing a bandana to tie her hair back, and nothing else.

Grimmjow repeated that several times in his head, desperate to rap his head around _why _an evil demon with a twisted and human-bloodied past was cleaning his house, and _why, _oh _why, _she was doing it naked. _Naked._

Not to say she didn't look good naked, she did. Even though her creamy long legs faded into ram's hooves just before the knee and the horns curved devilishly from her head and the tail waved behind her at the end of her spine, some unnatural protrusion that should have had him all but screaming in terror, she was still a frighteningly good looking woman.

But despite all that, Grimmjow could only feel a mortification that surely should not be present at seeing this woman naked. He did not _want_ to see her naked. It was like… like…

_Like seeing my little sister naked._

It brought about a very warm feeling inside of him to know that he truly, on some level, did consider Nel like his own family, or at least had the same strong protective urge that seemed present in most older brothers. Though, he supposed he probably wasn't older than her, but he had never ventured a guess at her age. It just seemed a bad idea to ask on so many levels, as she was a woman and even Ulquiorra seemed wary of the subject, meaning it may have been a touchy spot for demons as well. Though it may be just Ulquiorra's eccentricities. Perhaps judging all demons based on Ulquiorra wasn't the best idea. They seemed to be as diverse as humans. And Ulquiorra as unwound as the best of them.

As all of this was going through his head, he didn't notice that the busty, bubbly demon in question had noticed his presence and was now bounding up to him like a baby deer. With very large boobs.

"Hiya Grimmy!" she chirped happily, waving the duster in his face to wake him from his stupor.

"Gah!" he shrieked and fell to the ground, quickly covering his eyes. "Why are you fucking NAKED!"

Nel blinked cutely at him, not that he could really see, and hummed in contemplation.

"I'm doing laundry," she said with a sweet smile. "I'm doing yours too, though, so don't worry!" she said in reassurance.

"That's why you're naked? Put on other clothes!" he shouted, desperately trying to get himself off the ground without the help of his eyes.

Nel shuffled awkwardly, though Grimmjow could only assume that by the little noises her hair made brushing against her _naked_ back and her feet-sort of feet- moving minutely beneath her.

"Well I," she started, scratching noises coming from above him, so he assumed she was itching the back of her head sheepishly. "I don't really have any other clothes."

Grimmjow muttered unintelligibly and angled his face down to the ground staring at her hooves.

"You coulda said something before now." And in reality, he knew he really should have noticed. Looking back, he actually did. She had always worn the same clothing, the revealing, hastily made outfit sewn from her hair because she could no longer bear to see herself in white. But he was a guy, and therefore not totally inclined to notice things like the repeated wearing of clothes so he'd paid it no mind. It may not have totally forgiven his inattentiveness, but it sufficed as an excuse to belay the guilt.

Nel sharply dropped herself down to Grimmjow's level, posing on all fours and stared at him intently. Grimmjow yelped again and backpedaled in a backwards crabwalk quickly, resulting in a resounding BANG as his head hit the wall with a ringing thud.

"Fuck!" he snapped, rubbing his head gently, though with his frustration, his idea of 'gently' may not have been all that gentle. Ergo the slow-hammer-hitting-the-inside-of-his-head feeling he was experiencing.

Still not looking up, Grimmjow shed himself of his shirt, quickly throwing it over to her.

"Put that on," he growled, peeking through his fingers a few seconds later to find Nel dressed in his shirt, though it barely covered anything. Though Grimmjow may have been taller, and therefore the shirt should have been shorter on her, her impressive bust nearly made up for their height differences, stretching the shirt barely past her… private areas. Barely, but enough. "Good," he huffed. "Now, we have to figure something out for you."

Nel hummed in agreement, fiddling with the collar of his shirt idly. "I like your shirts though," she suggested.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "I bet. But Ulquiorra won't. And you need your own damn clothes!" he snapped, pushing himself off the ground and stalking to the kitchen. He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he scanned the hanging key rack by the door for a certain set of special keys, given by Kisuke before he left. With a satisfied grunt, he plucked a key chain with a little fan on it (annoying but the point was to find it and that it certainly accomplished) from the mix.

Nel bounded over, because God forbid she ever make a move that didn't flaunt her chest to bystanders everywhere. Grimmjow suspected it was probably just her over exuberance, having been recently freed from a prison of near insanity and depression brought on by her abusive mate and stressful living condition, so he didn't really draw much attention to it. If she wished to express her happiness in every move she made, far be it for him to stop her. He assumed this was the case for men everywhere as well, though for different reasons that he'd rather not address.

Though he would admit to himself that the big-brotherly overprotective feeling she invoked was a novel experience and one he had admittedly yearned for over the course of his life.

"So… what then?" she asked, eyeing the keychain in recognition. The fan bared such resemblance to Kisuke's fan that it was not too far of a stretch to assume it was his.

It lit up too, so that helped.

"Dunno what he thought I would need 'emergency keys' for to get into that stupid shop of his, but it'll be handy, I guess."

Nel blinked her big owlish eyes at him, cocking her head to the side.

Grimmjow smacked himself in the face, massaging his forehead.

"Clothes, Nel. We're getting you new clothes."

Nel bit her bottom lip and looked off to the side. "I don't know if I want clothes that Urahara sells. His fashion sense is…" she tapped her head in thought. "a little too eclectic for my taste."

Hearing such a seemingly ditzy woman with a very childish voice say a word like 'eclectic' made Grimmjow snort in laughter.

"Worth a shot though," he shrugged and headed outside to his beat up pickup parked idly outside. "Besides, it'll probably be nice for you to be off holy ground for a while."

Nel was quick to contradict him though.

"Oh no no, I'm fine, I promise!" she piped up eagerly. "It's not so bad anymore."

Grimmjow had been witness to this. Much like Ulquiorra, Nel had stopped the blistering burning after a few weeks on the grounds. Unlike Ulquiorra though, she possessed no healing abilities and any given burn stayed smoldering on her body for much longer than his demon lover. It was getting better though, somehow, as the blisters were becoming few and far between and she could last for longer periods on the grounds without seeking refuge under the tree across the way, her favorite thinking spot off the church grounds. Grimmjow had speculated on it and tried to come up with different reasons but always drew a blank. Maybe she was less unholy now? Was that even a term?

Regardless though, she still needed clothes of her own. He only had so many shirts that would cover enough for her to not be unseemly.

"Don't care," he shrugged, waving her to follow him. "They're my damn clothes."

**XXX**

Urahara whistled an upbeat, whimsical tune that had no place in the awkward, desolate space that had become his car. He figured he had to do something lest he be driven crazy by Ulquiora's brooding. He tapped the steering wheel idly, eyes flittering from the road to the moody demon on his side.

"What's got your panties in a bunch?" he finally asked.

Ulquiorra's eyes darted to him "Was it so obvious?"

Urahara chuckled and grinned at him. "Why yes, of course. I am a genius though."

Ulquiorra made no indication as to hearing him or not. He merely stared blankly out the side window as he had been doing until that point.

Urahara huffed and decided to try again. "You can't be missing Grimmjow yet," he chastised lightly.

"I don't expect you to understand the bonds associated with a mating," Ulquiorra answered with a darker note in his usual monotone.

Urahara glance at Ulquiorra's still impassive face, a bit put out by the comment. What did a demon know of human love, in contrast, anyways? "Well, I have been in love," he reminded him, a silly smile on his face. "Back when I was young and foolish and oh so hopeful."

"And you are none of those things now?" he asked.

_A conversation, at last._

"Well, in demon terms I'm probably young and I certainly play the part of town fool well, do I not?" he trilled, waving his favorite accessory, his fan, in his face.

"Hopeful for what?"

"Hmm," Urahara murmured thoughtfully. "A good question, indeed."

He at least seemed to have piqued Ulquiorra's interest, the large green eyes fixated unblinkingly on him. He pondered briefly on why such a topic would have him so riveted on his answer, but decided to answer honestly until he had a chance to question him on it later.

"When you're young, I suppose you don't really know what the future holds, so hopeful for the best of life. You know, a bright horizon and all that."

His answer did not seem to molify the suddenly very attentive demon. Though there was no outward recognizable change in his appearance to suggest anything of the sort, he could sense agitation and a sort of hopelessness within him that came few and far between with creatures of his kind. He suspected Grimmjow, though, would also have been able to detect it, perhaps just from his intimate relationship from him or his mating bond.

Completely beside the point, though.

"I take it that wasn't really the answer you were hoping for," he ventured.

Ulquiorra did make a bit of facial motion at the comment, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

"Do you not feel at all hopeful for that… sunny horizon any longer, now that you are a bit older?"

_Tread carefully,_ came the impromptu message from his subconscious. It felt as though whatever he said would affect Ulquiorra's view on his own predicament, whatever that may be.

"Humans don't live for very long," he shrugged, eyes focussed on the road ahead, leaving Ulquiorra to ponder in whatever little solitude he was allowed in the enclosed space. "Most of us make or break our lives very early on. We hope for the best, and when it doesn't really pan out, we lay in the bed we make.

"I suppose the same is for anything though. What's done cannot be undone and we deal with what we have to and come to realize the consequences of our actions." _Too preachy, perhaps._ "We can make up for what we've done, I've seen it, certainly. But we are so set in our ways, us humans, it's hard to overcome what we know to be true. Maybe if we had more time to see what's become of ourselves, it wouldn't be so difficult. But hey, we're all entitled to an epiphany once in a while."

He could feel Ulquiorra's blistering gaze boring holes into the side of his head.

"An epiphany?" Ulquiorra queried, subtly lifting an eyebrow.

"A complete turnaround, I suppose. I've used mine up though," Urahara sighed with an affectionate edge.

The question was most definitely open ended and he knew that Ulquiorra would feel cheated if he at least did not explain in a bit of detail.

"Grimmjow was mine," he began. "Before him, I'd been the irresponsible, completely oblivious man you see before you." He accented his point with a wide goofy grin and a slightly effeminate wave of his fan. "But after Grimmjow came to live with us, I assume you know most of the situation," A nod from Ulquiorra allowed him to continue. "Right then. When Grimmjow showed up at my front door, I saw a little boy so alone in the world that it broke my heart. I never really saw a reason, as seers who I believed to be doomed anyways, to really even try for anything more in our life. We would hunt and kill demons and do what we had to not to go crazy.

"But that kid walked into my life and changed everything. I wanted more for this boy who'd only known sadness. There had to be more for him, and if it killed me to find it, then so be it. That little boy would have a better life, somehow. There would be more for him and if I had to ensure it, then so be it.

"I owe a lot to Grimmjow. I discovered quite a hopeful little side of me after all from him."

Urahara smiled a rare, not overblown smile. It was small, a smile of reminiscence of a better time in his life, one that he cherished dearly. "So perhaps not all hope is lost after all."

If nothing else, Ulquiorra seemed quite a bit more placated by his explanation.

"On a related topic," Urahara said, having no more to say and sensing no more would come from Ulquiorra. "Why did you leave the Espada?"

"The Espada are close to falling and I have come to realise that I do not wish to return to Hell."

How… Blunt of him. Though he suspected it was Ulquiorra's indirect way of returning the favor of Urahara's own straight answers. There was certainly a lot of directions he could go with that answer.

In retrospect, the idea that the Espada were close to falling was not something that should have taken him by surprise, and in fact, due to his lack of any response, it very well may not have been as much an epiphany as the initial shock had made him assume. There were, what, four of them dead already. So the real question was in relation to Hell.

"Return to Hell, you say," he repeated, lifting an eyebrow at Ulquiorra. "What do you mean?"

Ulquiorra glared at him, he assumed. All of his facial expressions looked incredibly similar.

"It is the common belief among my kind," he spit my kind with slight vehemence, leading Urahara to believe he had more hostility towards demons in general than he had been led to believe. But he would ask about that later. "that a demon returns to Hell once they are killed. To avoid this, demons attempt to stay alive throughout eternity, once we are freed from Hell, though I do not know why we were released. Perhaps, I sometimes wonder, if I could try to repent for my demonhood and give up all that made me a demon, thereby embracing a mortal's way of existence, I could perhaps be given a second chance. After all, why would we be released from the confines of Hell if only to be pulled back asunder when fate so chooses?"

"Punishment perhaps?" Urahara suggested, but the excuse sounded weak even to his own ears. It seemed a very odd type of punishment. Perhaps having a taste of freedom and then being pulled back in would be a cruel thing in itself, but even that brief time away would be a blessing and perhaps an uplifting breath of air to some to help them bear the weight of the pit.

Ulquiorra voiced his thoughts as well. "It makes little sense. Senseless punishments like that which may only result in uplifting experiences would not be a punishment. Perhaps to show us what could have been, but not to let us live another life. Therefore, it is my assumption, and not a popularly accepted one, that we have been given a second chance, but so few demons make use of it that it hardly makes a difference. I see it as the grace of God rather than Lucifer's cruelty."

Urahara chuckled , earning a curious stare from Ulquiorra. "Have I said something amusing?" he asked flatly. Clearly he did not see the irony in such a speech.

"Ah, no," he said. "It's just, for someone who seems so emotionless and depressed, you certainly do have a hopeful streak in you."

Ulquiorra seemed a bit ruffled by the comment, shifting back to look out the window.

"Demons epitomise hopelessness," he stated a bit uncomfortable really.

"Ya well, demons also aren't supposed to fall in love with seers or want forgiveness," Urahara shrugged. "Guess there's rebels in every group." And then he laughed out loud because the words 'rebel' and 'Ulquiorra' in the same sentence seems so out of place somehow.

"Speaking of rebels, love, etcetera," Ulquiorra cut in, clearly no longer wishing to remain on the subject, "I would like to know more about the woman I shall be meeting."

Urahara turned his head, surprised at such a request. But then, obviously he would want to know more. He seemed inclined to everything in Grimmjow's life and Yoruichi was certainly a big part of it.

"Shihoin Yoruichi is a very strong natured, proud woman with a twisted sense of humor, but that makes it all the more fun," he said with a smile. "She is a good woman and I love her very much."

"I do not like the woman as it stands," Ulquiorra dead-panned.

Urahara was surprised. Had Grimmjow not been saying nice things about her? That seemed completely out of the ordinary.

"Oh? Pray tell, why?"

"She abandoned Grimmjow and left him missing another parental figure, depressing him further. She seems selfish and theatrical, leaving her family in such a state. She has caused Grimmjow enough pain, and this does not help matters. The most prominent reason I wish to meet her is to put a face to the name of the woman I have come to despise."

Oh dear God, revelations, revelations.

"Do you intend to harm her?" Urahara asked darkly, threateningly.

"I am not a fool," Ulquiorra said, darker still. "I would not do something to someone Grimmjow cares so deeply about, and I would not lie to him. I shall help this woman and despise her from a distance. For Grimmjow's sake and not by my own will." His eyes flashed dangerously, narrowing in what Urahara only realised was a supressed fury that had been stewing beneath the surface for some time. "I am not so callous as her."

While Urahara was not so intense in his version of Yoruichi, he would admit there was some truth to what Ulquiorra was saying that rang true to his own biased opinion, no matter how positively biased it was. Urahara had been less than pleased about her choice. He had deduced that Grimmjow was feeling a bit left out of the loop after everything, and out of Yoruichi's heart in general. As much of an idiot as Urahara acted, he seemed to possess recesses of knowledge that those who knew of, and which he suspected that Grimmow was finally coming to realise, found enviable.

And left out of the loop may have been sugar-coating it. Already suffering from abandonment issues and trauma that Grimmjow had never really gotten over made the whole ordeal harder to bear than it should have been. He was not only being abandoned by Yoruichi by not being called upon to assist in her struggle, but the only other person who knew of the situation had been called in for assistance, meaning that Grimmjow was not the first choice, and therefore the last choice. On top of everything, he probably didn't need self-esteem issues. And, with him leaving, Urahara was in a way abandoning him as well, and was taking his lover/mate with him. Another abandoning. More and more he wanted to turn the car around and make Ulquiorra stay with Grimmjow. But, he was resigned to the fact that Grimmjow survived of very little in his emotional life, and one of his lifelines was his pride.

And, in retrospect, it was incredibly theatrical for her to take off into the world with no one knowing where she had gone. She could have probably stayed with them, a united front against the demons, but had chosen what she believed to be a safer route, for the sake of her family, and also for her own peace of mind. It was a different kind of selfishness than what he had resented Grimmjow's father for, unable to handle the strain of his dead wife and mourning child, and had basically run to his suicide. It was a cowardly selfishness. Yoruichi's was an overblown reaction and even a little assuming of their own weakness compared to her. That she could go out and fend for herself, leaving the two of them, seemed to be saying that she believed she was superior to their combined power.

That may have been assuming too much though.

"You wouldn't have come all this way and put Grimmjow's wellbeing on the line just to put a face to a name," Urahara backtracked, uncomfortable thinking about Yoruichi so harshly.

"His physical wellbeing in under no threat," Ulquiorra pointed out, eyes darting to him viciously, clearly stating that he would not have come were that not the case.

"We both know that's not what I mean," Urahara sighed. What a frustrating little hell spawn. How did Grimmjow put up with him all the time? "His mental wellbeing. It won't be easy to be away from you, so why leave?"

Ulquiorra remained motionless for a beat, seeming to debate revealing what he was about too.

In the end, it would seem, in Urahara's opinion, he chose wrong. He was completely honest, as though he would not understand the deeper meanings behind it, but Ulquiorra failed. And Urahara's opinion would forever be tainted by it. "I can only learn so much of Grimmjow's past through his own words. Each life is seen differently through different eyes. I have seen his life through his own eyes and to a lesser extent, yours. Therefore I have been exposed to the adult he has become and the damaged child he was from each of you respectively. I now desire to know how he became the adult from the damaged child, and Yoruichi will be the eyes through which I shall see it."

Urahara was startled. How much of Ulquiorra's life had actually come to revolve around Grimmjow? Was he so far gone in desperation for a closer bond that he would leave him to understand him better? How… twistedly interesting. This in itself would have sufficed, and had he not continued, Urahara would not have seen beyond what he was saying, there would be no deeper meaning.

But Ulquiorra took his silence as not understanding.

"Grimmjow does not look upon his past, as I believe it is painful for him to remember and does not wish to think of what life could have been were anything different. Therefore I have come to know Grimmjow as he is now.

"You are constantly analyzing the past, living more there than in the present. Through you, I see Grimmjow as a child, a damaged boy with a wealth of emotional turmoil. I can now understand his emotional strength and his healed heart.

"I do not understand what gave him his strength, both physical and mental. Though you are the emotional attachment, Yoruichi seems to be his strength, and he has much of it. I desire to know how he came about such a resolve to change and become stronger."

Urahara smirked despite himself, usually never daring to make such a self-indulgent and, in his opinion, entirely too cocky facial expression. But he decided that such a situation called for such an out of character experience, if only because Ulquiorra was all too far in his own character, more so than he had dared hoped against for the demon. This was not about Grimmjow at all, whether he believed it to be or not.

Demons were selfish creatures by nature, so why should this be any different? There was no one else but himself at the center of his own decisions. He cared nothing if Grimmjow was damaged by all this. He only followed him to fulfill his true desire of being forgiven. Urahara showed Ulquiorra what Grimmjow had been; broken and beyond hope. Grimmjow showed what he was; strong and over his past. Yoruichi would show him the way to attain it, thus Ulquiorra could follow the model and earn forgiveness in turn.

It saddened him a bit. He had hoped for so much more from this one. And so much more for Grimmjow.

How stupid of him, really. He should have known that none of them were really different.

But still, how truly disappointing.

He contemplating telling Grimmjow, but decided it was for the best not to. Grimmjow was a smart kid (and no amount of glares directed his way could make him think Grimmjow was not a kid, despite his blue boy's never-ending attempts), he would figure it out for himself in time.

Or he wouldn't. It was his choice, and not Urahara's place.

"You are quiet," Ulquiorra commented idly, eyes narrowing slightly. None of the emotions Urahara had experienced made any mention of presence on his face and so Ulquiorra would not be able to understand what had gone through his mind. And Urahara suspected that it frustrated him to no end.

"Yes," he replied vaguely, wishing not to speak with the demon on any related subject any longer.

Besides, they were almost at the airport.

"Lighter topics, then," Urahara grinned, though he felt it to be forced and knew that Ulquiorra would see it as well. But he did have to at least act the part of the happy host as he had to deal with Ulquiorra for the next few days, despite any personal hatred he may or may not feel towards him.

Maybe it was all in his head anyways.

"I trust you have proper identification to get through the airport."

Ulquiorra blinked dully at him. "Would this not have been something that should have been asked before we departed?"

Urahara gave him a grim, overstated, dead eyed look. "You don't?"

"Fortunately, this time alone in what I assume is a long and unfortunate trail of absent-minded encounters with otherwise harmless situations turned foreboding by any lack of insight into most situations, Grimmjow took the liberty of acquiring me false identification, and very believable identification at that. Though I have my suspicions as to how he came into such detailed forgery," a look of contempt passed his face as his eyes met Urahara's, whose face had turned to a very happy yet somehow sheepish grin. "It seems to be a talent that has served me well in this case. I will admit though, I did not ever believe I would see the day when Grimmjow would have more foresight than you, but perhaps I give you too much credit."

_And Grimmjow not enough._ Urahara couldn't help but hope that Grimmjow really showed this little bastard what he was capable of before he lost his mind and knocked some sense into his little pet, lover, what have you, with his second, hell maybe even first, love, Benihime.

"Just try to keep the casualties at the airport to a minimum," Urahara said, some bitterness seeping into his tone. He could only deal with Ulquiorra's never-ending stream of insults directed at people he loved for so long. "I doubt any identification, no matter how nicely forged, could get you through that." _And wouldn't that be _such _a damned pity._

Ulquiorra said nothing, backing off a bit even. Perhaps he sensed the thinly veiled, bubbling pit of loathing he had recently acquired for him. Well, good.

"And I don't really want to go through the effort of cleaning up your mess."

A double entendre if there ever was one. Unlike most, though, this was not sexual. No, he was usually direct about that.

Urahara sincerely believed that neither him nor his son could handle what would become of him of he actually cared for this demon and had what remained of his tattered, sewn up life after it would be shattered.

But Urahara didn't expect him to get it.

You had to have real emotion to even begin to understand.

**XXX**

"Are you done yet?" Grimmjow whined moodily as he waited none too patiently outside the change room door.

"I'll be out when I am, so no!" came the snappy reply from the other side of the door.

Grimmjow leaned back in an office chair he'd found in the store and turned to regard it.

Nobody could say that the Urahara Shoten, Kisuke's little shop of what-the-fuck-ever, didn't cater to the most obtuse and inane needs of the small town's citizens. Why did he even have office chairs anyways? Nobody here, he sincerely doubted, would have any use of an office chair. He'd probably be much more successful selling things these backwater people could actually use. Like butter churns or something.

But to each their own. And it certainly came in handy in this case.

Among the strange and plentiful stock of the store happened to be a decent array of women's clothing. However, the clothes themselves were designed for women of normal bodily proportions, that which Nel did not have.

Not meaning the horns or legs or anything, that was fine. You could get around those things with the clothes because they really didn't change the way they fit unless it was very tight necked and she happened to rip the shirt with a horn.

No, the problem stemmed from her weird, porn-star esc body. Her boobs and hips were twice the size of her waist and that made it oh-so awkward to find her any clothing that wasn't plus size! And she wouldn't wear any plus size clothing either, saying it made her feel awkward and fat.

He'd told her that from back to boob tip he probably couldn't get his arms around her anyways so she should be wearing plus sizes.

Thank god the store also carried medical supplies.

Nel was an enigma to him. He figured he might as well puzzle on it now as she never, ever, _ever _shut up when she had him in her sights. Maybe it was the door preventing her from talking or maybe she didn't feel comfortable talking to him while she was naked.

Of course the latter was complete and utter bullshit and even a second of remembrance from the morning's activities could tell you why.

Nevertheless, he wondered how such a tortured, unholy soul with such a shattered past, and recent past at that, could be so unabashedly happy all the time.

She was strong, emotionally, apparently. There was no other explanation. Grimmjow himself had a past tainted by blood and mental abuse inflicted upon him by unfortunate circumstance and clumsy choices by the people around him, and he suffered because of it.

Nel… didn't. Despite what he knew about her, and admittedly he didn't know as much as he should, living with her and all, she seemed so light-hearted despite it all. She was constantly abused by a creature who should have at the very least shown her what demons considered love, though the definition was more loosely placed on such hellish creatures. Still, this Nnoitra still should have shown her some sort of affection.

He found himself despising Nnoitra though he had never met him.

Now, Grimmjow hated all demons-well, most demons. Discounting the two he knew, lived with and one of them he fucked. But Nnoitra struck something in him he didn't like at all. Nnoitra embodied what he had always believed a demon was; a monster uncaring of who he hurt and prone to random violence and bloodshed onto whomever chose to cross his path for no justifiable reason, even more so for completely incoherent reasons. He was the antithesis of the demon persona that Ulquiorra and Nel had opened him up too; a more sympathetic and caring creature with dark pasts and labels already so heavily placed on them that they had no choice but to conform and twist themselves into something that they didn't necessarily want, with very little option of escape.

He wanted to believe that Nel and Ulquiorra could escape it, though. He wanted to believe in chances for both of them. Nnoitra was a representation of the road that they could be going down, and what most demons did. And therefore he despised them.

Grimmjow couldn't help but feel a little disturbed by how much he judged the people he met on his own interpretations of the world around him and his ideals. He'd fallen in love with Ulquiorra because he represented the freedom Grimmjow had always hoped to find one day, away from his set fate. Nel represented the family element he had always desired, someone else who understood heartbreak and who had survived to come out on top and who cared, seemingly at least, deep about him and even seemed to look up to him. And now Nnoitra.

_I wonder how much of it is real and how much is just in my head._

"So what do you think?"

Grimmjow blinked out of his trance and turned the chair away from the hauntingly empty store back to the changing room doors, where he found Nel standing, shifting her weight nervously to rest on one leg and then the other. Her hands were clasped behind her back, giving her an innocent feel.

A small smile appeared on Grimmjow's face.

Nel donned a bright green dress interspersed with flashy, but somehow not clashing, swirls of different shades of green and yellow, a low dipping neckline that showed off her impressive cleavage but was not crass or obscene in any way, and a length that dropped to her knee caps, flowing flower-like from her hips to drape off of her in an innocent and almost child-like manner.

The dress was complimented by her bright, sparkling grey eyes betraying how much she loved the dress to him and the sweet, sugary smile on her face only added to the over-all appearance of a happy, bouncy young woman.

She was breathtaking.

"You look fantastic Nel."

Her answering smile was so luminous Grimmjow thought she could light up the entire store.

"You think so? I really like this one," she admitted, twirling so that the dress fanned beneath her.

Grimmjow grinned a little bigger. He really didn't care about the dress, per say. But Nel was so lit up and so undeniably happy that it enhanced the beauty of the dress, and her, to an outstanding level.

"Alright, I think you've tried everything on now," he said, stretching slightly. "Let's head back, I'm getting hungry."

**XXX**

Nel hummed as she worked, bustling about the kitchen, setting the table with eager fervor. She had, as Grimmjow predicted, chosen to immediately wear the dress, saying she wanted to wear it everywhere. He had replied with a positive acceptance but a warning that if she ever took the damn thing off to put on some other clothing.

Grimmjow watched her for a moment before heading back to his room, opening a small chest of memoirs under the bed.

There was nothing really special in it to anyone else, but Grimmjow adored the items in it, and that was all that mattered really.

A family picture of his real parent smiled out at him, bouncing a little blue-haired boy about 5 years old on the golden haired woman's lap. He lovingly wiped a bit of the dust off and set it to the side.

A shattered piece of metal found its way into his grasp, glowing a dull violet with waning and virtually no power left to it. It was a piece of Yoruichi's zanpakutou, which had been destroyed during the fight with the demon who had sent her running. She would never use another one, deciding to release the power using her own body and reiatsu as a catalyst, meaning she was constantly released but with immense control. This was a dangerous thing to try but she seemed to have perfected the technique.

He rubbed his fingers over a few links of chipped chain, containing a broken cuff on the end. Grimmjow had used it when he was 9 to hold down a demon for hours, a young demon but still, until he had wiggled his way over far enough to grasp a shard of broken glass and destroy it completely. He had clamped its claws together and held it to the ground as it thrashed continuously for so long his little body had nearly passed out, as the only way to keep the clamp closed was to pull on the chain while constantly having to pin the demon down.

It was the first time he'd ever killed a demon on his own.

He dropped the chain, much less gently than the other two objects, on the ground next to them.

He pulled out a carefully placed pin wheel, shiny paper not having deteriorated at all over time, and spun it with his finger. This he had gotten from Urahara when he was almost eleven.

Kisuke had taken him to a fair for the first time in his life, and he had not been excited if he remembered correctly. He had become much less sulky as of late, nearly a year after his father's death, but that didn't mean he really wanted to do much. His life had never been about fun, and no matter how hard Kisuke tried to drive that out of him, he had always clung to his parents image; kill and run from demons. It was all he had ever known.

But despite his hang ups on the topic, he couldn't help but love the fair. Carnival games and crazy rides and entertainment galore, he was in little boy heaven.

He remembered noticing, though, that Kisuke was having just as much fun as he was.

"_Kisuke, Kisuke! Look at that! It looks _awesome!_" exclaimed the blue-haired pre-teen. He was pointing excitedly to a large roller coaster with hills and sharp turns and giant loops everywhere. Nothing could hold his attention if only because everything was holding his attention. He ran to a line of vendors and his mouth started watering when he saw the mini donuts, the cotton candy, the caramel apples, just everything._

_And the rides! There were so many, and he would conquer them all, just wait. Just you wait!_

_And games of all kinds! Grimmjow loved strategy games. He used strategy in every survival situation, and as a seer there were many. But the idea of using them for fun and play was a novel idea as well as a novel experience. Nothing was at stake in a game, except losing. And that didn't mean your life, either. In this case it was just a ticket. _

_Grimmjow could feel the smile almost splitting off his face, his eyes alight with childish wonder and excitement. He wanted to do everything, see everything, take it all in and breathe it back out to take it all back in again._

"_I'm gonna do everything a hundred times!" he exclaimed proudly, grinning over his shoulder back at an equally as ridiculous smiling Kisuke._

_Grimmjow looked around. Well, if he was gonna do everything, he may as well start at the closest place. He eagerly ran over to the closest game booth. There was a variety of prizes, from stuffed animals to candy. But what caught his little attention span was a pin wheel nearly the size of his head. Even the very light breeze had it spinning, giving off vibrant colours that caught Grimmjow's eyes. _

_Kisuke must have noticed his fixation, as he quickly handed over a ticket, allowing Grimmjow to play for it._

_It was a basic shooting game. Hit so many targets and win a prize. _

_And Grimmjow sucked at those games._

_Things like ring toss or ball throwing were very simple for him as hand eye coordination and muscle control were some of his strongest points. He spent hours training himself to know how far something was and how much strength would be needed to get it to the correct spot. _

_He had never had gun training. Demons didn't die easy and usually bullets were too small to really do any damage besides leave a hole in their body for a while until they healed. So naturally, he lost miserably. _

_Grimmjow was not someone who was saddened over trivialities. No, he had gone through far too much in his life to really care about something so blasé._

_That was why he was obviously not saddened at all by this. Not a bit. Nope._

_He trudged back to Kisuke, hands in his jean pockets, kicking a stray rock along with him. If only he could win by kicking rocks. He'd get that pin wheel for sure and be able to watch the pretty blue-purple pattern all day shining in the sun and spinning in the wind. _

_Kisuke was regarding him with a surface smile but something else deeper. Grimmjow didn't really know what it was, but had he been a better facial reader at the tender age of eleven, he would have seen the pity for him. _

"_Couldn't quite get it?" Kisuke asked softly._

"_Tch," he scoffed, turning his head away. "I didn't really want it that bad anyways."_

_Kisuke chuckled and ruffled his hair before walking back to the stand. "Wait here," he called over his shoulder._

_A few minutes later, Kisuke came back, baring a pin wheel, all flashy colours and entrancing patterns, in his hand. _

_Kisuke gave it to Grimmjow with a goofy grin._

"_You have to win the next one though," Kisuke warned, poking his forehead. Grimmjow pouted slightly, but brightened up considerably when the wind caught the pin wheel and spun it again. _

"_Yeah, yeah," he said distractedly, hoisting it above his head and running across the grounds, eager to get to whatever was next._

Grimmjow couldn't help the affectionate smile. Knowing Kisuke's true intent now and looking back didn't actually tarnish the memory at all. It was a dear one, and one he knew he'd treasure through his years.

_Definitely going soft,_ he thought irately.

Finally, he found a long, rectangular black box and held it delicately in both hands. He brushed his thumbs across the top affectionately before slipping the other items back into the box and under the bed.

He noticed vaguely that he'd left the pin wheel on his end table, but decided it was fine where it was.

Grimmjow looked into the kitchen where Nel was happily finished, surveying her supper with pride.

"Hey, looks good," he commented, walking over to her.

"Oh I know! I'm so happy about this one. Nothing's burnt at all!" she chirped excitedly.

"That's great," he said, extending the box to her. "Hey, I have something for you."

Nel seemed surprised but elated. She eagerly took the box, though her fingers were hesitant. It was almost like she knew it was precious.

She opened it and Grimmjow smiled as her eyes lit up happily.

"Oh it's beautiful," she said, delicately pulling out a silver chain. The chain connected to a larger circular link in the front and would dip into the top of her cleavage, accenting her dress and face with the very subtle and dignified piece of jewelry.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, taking the chain from her and motioning for her to do around. She did so eagerly and lifted her hair up so Grimmjow could see what he was doing. "It was my mother's."

Nel's eager bouncing stopped short. She turned back to him, looking at him with big eyes. She very slowly touched the center hoop of the chain softly.

"Oh Grimmjow, I can't accept this. It must mean so much to you," she said, her voice wavering slightly. She looked as though she had been bestowed a great honour, and Grimmjow was infinitely glad for this. She knew the weight it carried and held it with the same respect he had hoped for.

"I was never gonna wear it," he chuckled, smiling at it. "It suits you."

Nel was stunned silently. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'll take good care of it."

"I know," he replied, pulling her into a hug.

Nel froze with a sharp intake of breath before returning the hug in full, burying her face in his shoulder.

He pulled away with a smile and she with watery eyes.

"Now, let's eat. I wanna see how well you really did."

**XXX**

Early morning found Grimmjow outside, looking at a grave and dreading having to start his work. So, he just looked for a while, having a conversation with the grave dweller in his head.

_Hello again, Daniel Connery, _he thought, staring at it impassively. _It's been a while. The last time I talked to you I was pretty alone wasn't I._ He glanced back at the house and grinned slightly. _Not really so much anymore. _

He probably would have gone on staring for some time, talking to himself or the kid or whatever, but a voice he had never heard before interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey, excuse me," came the gruff but pleasant baritone from the other side of the fence. Grimmjow turned his attention to it, wondering how he hadn't heard the speaker coming, when his body went rigid and all breath left him.

Demons. Four demons. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. It just fucking _couldn't._

"Hate to be a bother so early in the morning, but we're looking for someone," the man/demon said again.

Grimmjow couldn't find his voice. He merely raised an eyebrow for any other movement would have been too taxing, just too much.

"It's a woman. Long green hair, high voice. Name's Neliel. Do you know her?"

_It's over,_ he thought. _ It's all over._

_Will today be the day I die?_

**XXX**

Ok, here we go again. I AM SORRY! Ya, it's been a while hasn't it. Sorry about that. But I'm here and back with another chapter. Hope my sort of not really hiatus didn't make you guys hate me too much.

So, things to address.

Ok, so Ulquiorra hates Yoruichi. Not shocking. But does he really not care for Grimmjow at all? Well, it's from Kisuke's perspective so he believes it, but it may not be true. Then again it might. Interpret for yourselves.

Grimmjow really loves Nel as a sister. I really wanted to expand on that more, but honestly, I figured this fic was getting to be long enough. So we get into the thick of things now.

That scene with little Grimmjow at the fair I really actually originally wanted in the scene during Grimmjow and Kisuke's big father-son moment. But it didn't happen, so I decided I still wanted it in there somewhere.

Anyways, the Espada have arrived! The last little nothing scene was really not supposed to give anything away, so I kept it short. Everything has to go to hell next chapter, not this one. And boy, I intend for things to go to hell.

Now, to be frank, I don't know if I'll even show Ulquiorra and Urahara meet Yoruichi. Basically they left so the Espada could come while they're gone. I didn't want the final confrontation to be yet. I totally know how I want it. No spoilers though! Besides, Yoruichi really isn't a character in this story. She's more of a prop I use, I guess. I love her character, but she doesn't really have one in this story, so we'll see if I even show her at all. I don't really know how to write for her anyways. She's more of a legend at this point.

But reviews tend to make me lean one way or another. I must cater to the fans! Speaking of fans, please leave me a lovely review! Comments, applause and critisizm are all very welcome! Thank you infinitely for reading and I shall see you next time!


	17. In Life and Death

**Chapter 17**

Stark smiled in a friendly manner, despite the heated glare he could feel boring into his back. Hallibel had not wanted him to take a friendly approach. She was still determined to make him assert his dominance at every stage of the game. But he saw no point in it this time. This kid didn't have a reason to fear them. Stark only wanted his cooperation. He knew it was important to look dominant and menacing, especially in desperate times such as these, but he would not risk this man becoming defensive and refusing to help them. He could deal with it, kill him if need be, but it seemed so pointless and he was the only one who would have possibly known where their target was.

Besides, he really didn't want to walk across holy ground to get to him and begin intimidating properly. Where holy ground was involved it never ended all too well.

And even besides that, the kid reminded him of a much younger kid from his younger days and happier memories, a bright, excited little boy. Obviously not the same; the child of his memories was a demon, and it had been many, many years ago. But even so, there was a similarity between the two, this man and that boy, that had his heart (what little black shriveled up entity was left that he chose to call a heart) aching for the kid. He just wished it'd be easier for the people who got caught up in the Espada's whirlwind of revenge.

Ok, that was a lie. He usually didn't care. But he did when his own interests were on the line and the humans face was so, so similar, right down to the piercing blue eyes and hair.

But, he'd asked a question, hadn't he? Was the kid not bothered to answer? He couldn't have understood who he was snubbing, but didn't common courtesy dictate an answer at the very least?

Ah, common courtesy.

_Silly me, I've forgotten formalities._

Humans were much more comfortable after the initial greetings were out of the way, in his experience at least. And, to be fair, his experience was limited. He usually didn't have to deal with humans, the Espada almost never did and on those rare occasions there were very few formalities present. Mostly just intimidation. Therefore, the handling of those lesser beings were left on the shoulders of weaker demons so he could focus on more important business, demonic business where demons were inclined. Besides, demons cowered in his presence, feared and respected him with a reverence similar to god-hood, so human traditions and patters of pleasantries easily slipped his mind.

"How rude of me, barging over here and demanding things, and you don't even know my name" Stark chuckled good naturedly. Despite not having much practice in human matters and not having to deal with them, he did know the importance of being able to fake it. Perhaps in his past life he had been an actor of some sort, but who was he to dwell on that? There were more important matters at hand then his long-forgotten human past. "My name is Coyote Stark, a friend of Neliel's." He gestured to his right, towards his dear mate who stood just a bit behind him. "This is Tia Hallibel, my m-wife," he corrected easily, brushing it off with the finesse of a pro. "This is Szayel Apollo Granz, another friend" he said, motioning to his right and further back. "And behind me is Nnoitra Jiruga, Neliel's husband."

Through it all, the man said nothing. He seemed to be staring right through them, burning holes deeper than Stark was comfortable with. Those piercing eyes certainly lived up to their metaphor.

His stony silence was stretching too far and thin. Perhaps the man was a bit off.

"May I ask for your name?" Stark queried, straining to keep his pleasant demeanor. Few things unnerved Stark, but this man, so reminiscent of the child he had known, was beginning to gnaw at him. If only because he did not want the eyes of that child to seem so cold, so iced over. Did he hate strangers so much? Though it wouldn't be out of the realm of possible; he lived fairly secluded. In retrospect, visitors probably warranted this reaction, coming off the beaten path to harass him. Stark could relate. But it didn't help this frosty situation any, and Stark was becoming fidgety. Never on the outside, he knew the importance of appearances, even among the Espada. But his teeth were grinding slightly and he recognized it as a foreboding sign. He was not one to leap into action, but he would if the situation called for it.

It was just… he didn't want to hurt the child, man, what have you. The two were blending in his mind and he found he didn't mind, though he should have.

All this only fueled his edginess and he wondered how long it would be before he chipped a tooth.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques." Stark only just stopped a sigh of relief. The tension was suffocating him, figuratively. But enough of that. He couldn't focus on anything more than the man at hand. He would not think of the demon child, he would _not. _He prayed it would be easier now, knowing his name. The name not of the demon child. Not even close. A relief, truly.

"Ah, well Mr. Jaegerjaques, I'll ask again now that we've been properly introduced," he said with a deceivingly warm smile, so far from the menacing cold gaze. "Have you seen Neliel?"

Grimmjow shuffled slightly, the sounds of moving fabric enhanced to Stark's sensitive ear. It sounded like scratching on drywall.

Stark frowned infinitesimally. His senses had been heightened, and yet, he sensed no real danger. Perhaps it was from being close to holy ground.

"Yeah," he shrugged, his hands easily sliding into his pockets. So easily. Almost nonchalant. Almost… forced to be that way. Was this Grimmjow more wary of them than he had originally thought? "She came by here a couple days ago," he said airily. And again, to Stark's ear it sounded too natural, like a well-seasoned professional was giving him a line. Was he overanalyzing it? Nervous about holy ground? Unused to being so casually dismissed?

Was he right?

"I see," Stark said, sighing as though disappointed. He was far to on edge, though, and he wondered if Grimmjow would pick up on that as well.

Though his face remained impassive Stark could almost believe he saw a spark of something in his eyes, as though he knew he was speaking to a well-seasoned professional as well. What was this little ploy, then, if they both knew? What were they pretending? What were they hiding?

_Let's play a game…_

Always a game.

An itching, sort of annoying, came to the back of Stark's mind. Hadn't he felt like this before not too long ago?

"Think she was heading west, though she only stopped briefly and didn't say much," he elaborated.

"Pity," Stark said, eyes unblinking. He wanted to watch this man. Watch the game. He wanted to know every miscellaneous, unimportant part and piece of this game and not miss a second that could have let him in on some big secret he was missing, because he was sure there was. He didn't like not understanding the rules and so he would learn in turn. "What did she say?" he asked, allowing a small smile to flit across his face.

Grimmjow seemed unamused by his attempts at pleasant conversation. This all felt so… preliminary.

What was it leading up too?

"Just stopped in, kinda where you guys are," he said, an almost hostile look crossing his eyes. No, not hostile, more knowing. Knowing what? "I offered to get her a drink or something but she said she couldn't, had places to be. That song and dance."

_Does he know this is as well? Some song and dance?_ "That's all she said?" he asked.

Grimmjow chuckled, a dark, almost ironic ring to it. "Am I on trial?"

Stark narrowed his eyes, pleasantness leaving him for just a moment. Nothing offending had been said or done, no offensive move had been made, or at least nothing worthy of losing his cool, but he felt so played, like Grimmjow had something on him. Like something was missing from his know-how of this game. Something very important.

"I said nothing of the sort," he recovered quickly. But, he wondered if it was quickly enough. The stony, frigid glance was now blue fire. Destructive, but controlled. He knew, somewhere inside of him, that this game was not new to him, whatever it was. He had obviously played it many times. What was it?

_I should know this game, _he thought, frustrating ripping apart his control. _If you don't even know the game you're playing, you lose._

_What are the stakes, then?_

Games were played with the intent to gain something from the opposing player. Usually, in simple, childish games, the prize was victory and the stakes, pride.

This was not a childish game though, so the stakes would be higher. Something more to lose than just victory. How high were they? Physical harm? Mental instability? Life itself?

With the way tension was escalating, at least for Stark and likely Grimmjow, this seemed to be the case. But no human could stand up to a demon.

_Except…_

But that wasn't possible. It would be too coincidental. Grimmjow looked like the demon child, was able to play mind games on Stark's level, so there was no way in heaven or hell it he could also just so happen to be a-

"No one ever says it," Grimmjow pointed out. "Doesn't mean it's not true, though."

Stark scratched his head, far harder than necessary. What sort of mental tirade was he going through, anyways? This was ridiculous! He was just reading more into it than he should. Humans were simple. Humans were easy. Humans didn't hide things and play mind games and swap intimidation with, for all they knew, innocent passers-by! Such ranting, raving, random thoughts were indicators of Descended demons, which Stark still knew to be false to him.

Even if it was beginning, he could put an end to it right then. He could think rationally and logically and see what was right in front of him; a tired, antisocial human who clearly did not follow typical human speaking norms and only wished to have them out of his hair.

Simple. Easy. Human.

"Oh, the layers of conversations," Stark chuckled, grasping his waning sanity for all it was worth.

Grimmjow lifted an eyebrow, seeming a bit surprised by what Stark had to assume was his radical shift in attitude. Understandable.

Right?

He glanced behind him and noticed the Szayel and Hallibel were looking bored, clearly wishing to move on to bigger and better things. Hallibel was even regarding him with a flat look, indicating she wished him to stop toying with the human. Nnoitra was looking at him with vague interest. He understood something had passed between them, but likely not what.

It meant that Grimmjow was the only one to have noticed his anxiety.

It meant that Grimmjow had seen beyond the layers of Stark's pretenses.

It meant that Grimmjow was playing with him after all.

It meant that his Descended, irrational reasoning had been true.

He couldn't think about that. He really could not. Because it would have meant that Descended demon thinking had some truth to it beyond what sane demons had. It meant that Descended demons could see beyond layers of formality. It meant that Descended demons could grasp things that sane demons could not.

And it meant that he was likely Descending as well.

But, for the moment, he pushed all of the speculating and idealising and pondering aside. Because it also meant one other thing.

And that was that the man standing before them was a seer.

If he believed himself to be sane, or if he could reign in the Descension, perhaps he could step back from the situation again and gain a clear head. But seeing it from a Descended standpoint, of which he was doing he had no doubt, would it really be gaining a clear head, or clouding him even more? Demons who had not Descended put themselves on such a high pedestal above those who had, perhaps they wallowed in their sanity too much, cherished it too much, when a situation called for them to act on instinct rather than logic.

"Enough of this!" Nnoitra snapped behind him, sounding impatient. "This little back and forth is drivin me nuts! So if you two ladies are done with yer mind games, then you," he pointed at Grimmjow. "Can stop damn well lyin' to us and tell us the truth! Where is Neleil, ya fuckin' seer."

**XXX**

Nel stretched languidly, ruffling her hair absent-mindedly. She couldn't help the sleepy smile that ran across her features as her eyes caught a glinting piece of metal on the nightstand. She ran her fingers gently over the necklace.

Such a simple thing, merely a chain with one bigger link in the center. Almost not worth any time at all to anyone else, but it meant so much to her. It symbolized Grimmjow's acceptance of her into this strange little household that she dared call a family.

She picked it up and played her fingers across it, fondling the chain affectionately. How could so much change in so little a time? She got out of bed and carefully donned her new necklace, beaming at her reflection as the light glinted off it dully.

And why not add to her stunning wardrobe choices? She eagerly scrambled into her new dress and twirled girlishly, loving the way it framed her body and made her feel so young. A quick brush of her hair was all that remained and she bounded into the kitchen, ready to make breakfast for both herself and her newly termed 'brother.'

_Brother…_ She loved it. Loved that she had someone who would spoil her and look out for her and take care of her and really, really love her, somewhere deep down. It wasn't love in the sense of mates, but somehow she didn't want that anyways. Perhaps she just needed this. A comfortable, family-like love, even if it was new and forming still, it didn't matter. Nel was so happy, so so happy. She'd forgotten that feeling.

Even if Ulquiorra tried to take a blow torch to her, it came from a good place.

_I think…_

As Nel became more aware of her surroundings, she faintly heard someone talking outside.

Come to think of it, Grimmjow had mentioned that he would be up early to tend to the graves. And that couldn't be easy. He'd divulged to her at one point that he hated the job as he was forced to tend to seers past, ones that had lost their lives to demons.

_Like me._

He said the one he hated the most was a sixteen year old named Daniel. He had talked to the grave before, when he had been all alone.

Nel frowned. She didn't want Grimmjow to feel so lonely. He wasn't alone.

She'd go comfort him, help him get through it. It was the least she could do.

She'd make him see he wasn't alone.

She skirted over to the door and walked out, expecting to find Grimmjow morosely surveying his long dead companions.

Not hers.

Nel came to an abrupt halt, her breathing suddenly picking up and she vaguely realised she was shaking in increasing volumes.

Oh God, oh God, oh no no _no_

Everyone's eyes snapped to her. She tried to form words, tried to even move, but she couldn't.

_How…_

And there he was, standing on the other side of that fence, evil eyes belonging to the man who brought her nothing but grief staring at her with a spreading grin on his face.

"Hello Nelly," he said softly. Oh but she heard. She heard all too well.

"N-no," she whispered, taking a shaky step back.

"Nel, run!" hollered Grimmjow and she noticed his hands forming different signs and power igniting around him.

_He has the advantage, of course,_ her hazy mind recalled, allowing her to see in a battle retrospective. _The Espada will lose their powers if they come on holy ground and he can utilize certain powers from it._

_There are more Espada though so they could haul him off the ground if they got him, and even if he gets them down, he couldn't kill them…_

No, he could. But he needed…

_Pantera._

Nel swung into action diving back into the house and hearing heavy footfalls coming after her. She had to hurry because Grimmjow couldn't hold them back and call for his sword at the same time, it required too much power and thought when he needed to focus, but her legs were so shaky…

She vaulted though the kitchen and into the living room, slipping on the floor and falling to the ground painfully, but she felt nothing. She pulled herself onto her elbows and jumped for the mantle, gripping the hilt of the sword even as she rammed the rest of her body into the wall and had to hold herself up with the last of her strength.

Only to scream and drop Pantera to the ground, her hand bubbling viciously.

_I can't even hold it. How can I get it to him?_

But, as it turned out, there was not time to debate.

"Run from me, will you?" Nnoitra hissed, yanking her hair and pulling her head back painfully, bearing her throat. Two of his six hands were wrapped in her hair, the others making superior gestures at her, one even up at his mouth as he _yawned_ in such a bored fashion. "You can never escape me, Nelly," he whispered in her ear, throwing her harshly to the ground.

Nel whipped her head around, having landed on her hands and knees. Her body turned with her, though when she looked back she could hardly remember turning at all. Perhaps, it was because all became a blur with Nnoitra's face in her perception. This wasn't some allusion, or at least she thought it wasn't. After all, the allusion had never touched her before.

"You can't hurt me," she said slowly, teeth bared in an animalistic fashion. "I'm your mate! I am _stronger_ than you!" Nnoitra kicked her roughly in the ribs, most likely breaking a few. Her face hit the floor near his boot, and she noticed for the first time the steam rolling off of him.

_Much more than me._

"What does that matter?" he growled. "I ain't so tied down by sanity as the rest of ya are, now am I." He stalked closer. "I can do any damned thing I wanna, and ya know what?" His smile looked as though it was ready to break through the sides of his face. "I can get away with it, cuz what Descended demon knows better?" he hooted, laughs rolling out of him with sinister intent.

Nel was all but in hysterics, because it was just so true. He wouldn't stop because he had no reason to. He could kill her, right fucking _now_ because he was Descended, and somehow, he was using it to his advantage. Somehow, he was only stronger with insanity, that despairing loss of what grounded them. _We pride ourselves on it, so how could it be a downfall, a weakness?_

Her vision had come true, all was lost. They had found her, somehow or another. She would pay the price, but now so would Grimmjow. This couldn't be happening, she would not let this happen to Grimmjow as well. He didn't deserve it, and she didn't deserve this! Nnoitra was coming closer again, expression of malice and bloodlust so evident it made her want to scream bloody murder until her voice box came out of her throat. Oh God, what could she do?

She tried to shuffle back, kicking at him.

"Stay away from me!" she screamed roughly. What could she do, what could she do?!

"Aw babe, don't you worry your pretty little head," he cooed, maniacal grin set firmly in place. "Soon I'll make you remember why you just don't disobey me. We have forever to drag out your punishment," he laughed madly, making a grab for her again.

In her desperation to back up, her hand nudged Pantera, lying behind her. Her head twisted quickly back and she looked at the blade, faint blue glow enveloping it.

It was beautiful really, and it suited Grimmjow so well; reminded her of his face, and the strong reiatsu she could feel permeating through her body as she touched it had an enveloping warmth to it, despite her being a demon. Perhaps it was due to Grimmjow's own feelings for her or some other worldly intent.

But, she realized, any speculation had no meaning to her in the moment. None of it did. She would not go down without a fight, mate be damned!

Reacting quicker than even she knew she could, she fully grabbed the sword, hand seething and writhing and the smell of burning flesh prominent even after merely half a second, and swung it around her body, up on her feet in a crouched position instantly.

The blade flashed in front of her face, so much like a flash of Grimmjow's eyes with the startling blue color it pulsed when it made contact with her target, and a definite horrible bubbling noise came from Nnoitra's face before her. His scream pierced through the house, surely outside as well. They would hear it, they would all know that Nnoitra had failed, and backup would come to subdue her. She had no time, she had to hurry before they reacted. _Grimmjow, just hold on a bit longer!_

She sprang past Nnoitra into a dead on sprint; even on holy ground so much faster than any human, and darted outside.

"Grimmjow!" she screamed, waving the sword at him. Grimmjow turned and she saw him in a deadlock between Stark and Hallibel, only barely fending off their bare minimum physical attacks, reduced to such measures by holy ground, with the magic he was able to conjure up from the ground that desired to protect him with his holy blood, and his own fighting prowess. She vaguely noticed Szayel pointedly staying out of it on the other side of the fence, but only briefly documented it in her hazy brain for future reference should it ever be a point to bring it up.

But no time! She threw the sword towards Grimmjow and collapsed in a heap on the ground, breath coming in short, painful gasps as she tried to steady herself. She had no idea the sword would take so much out of her. Demons, clearly, were not meant to harbour such a wealth of holy power.

She watched as Grimmjow expertly caught the sword, and Nel saw hope dawn in his eyes.

It was amazing, really. The blade looked so at home in his hand, completing the picture of a powerful seer, hell bent on the destruction of his mortal enemy, or rather, the enemy to all mortals. He looked so unbeatable in that moment, so strong, that Nel wondered who truly was stronger in this fight; the full power of the Espada or this man with the blessings of a higher power.

Apparently having no time to release before he would surely be killed by his demon opponents, he swung the blade in an arc around himself, straight into what should have been the midriffs of both Stark and Hallibel.

Nel couldn't really be sure, but she thought she saw Hallibel push Stark out of the way and a deafening scream, the second one in under a minute, ring out loud and clear. A woman, this time.

Grimmjow wasted no time though. The cut was too shallow, she would heal. And he ran her through fully with Pantera, demon blood coating both his beloved blade and himself.

**XXX**

Grimmjow had long ago learned to harden his heart to even the most human looking of demons. He cared little for what would become of them and believed them to be deserving of a long, painful, drawn out death and that had them experiencing the torment they had caused so many others. These monsters deserved to rot.

And yet…

The demon before him, a woman-in the loosest term, a 'woman'- with a shock of blonde hair and green eyes with more emotion than he cared to see in a demon, had pushed the other demon out of the way. He watched her eyes carefully, as though he really had a choice which, in fact, he didn't because she was close to his height and he had always been taught to watch a demon until it died, making sure that it was in fact dead.

She was clearly trying to look over at the demon she had saved, Stark. He recalled the name from a conversation with Ulquiorra. Stark was the most powerful demon of them all, and this was likely the second, Hallibel. He had known they were a mated pair.

He hadn't thought that either would risk their lives for the other, though.

And suddenly, he wasn't really seeing her green eyes anymore, but Ulquiorra's. And no matter how he tried, he couldn't erase the feeling.

He pulled the sword roughly from her body and stumbled back a few steps, hand only barely keeping from shaking.

She raised a hand very slowly, though he acknowledged not shaky in the least, and felt the wound herself. She coughed lightly, eyes trained on the blood dripping from her fingers.

Her legs seemed to attempt to turn her around to face her comrades, but she lacked the life left to do such a thing.

She seemed to realise as much as well, giving up and retaining what little strength she possessed left to keep her standing on trembling legs.

Their eyes met for a second and Grimmjow saw what he never wanted to in demons. She was afraid of dying, she was _afraid. _He hated thinking of demons as having any rational emotion but when it was staring him in the face it was so hard to ignore.

Though he didn't have to for long.

"S-Stark," she whispered, her legs finally giving out and collapsed on the ground at Grimmjow's feet. She arched her head, desperately trying to see him. "Remember, you-" she hacked up unnatural looking blood, too dark to be actually human. "You-" she coughed harder, voice strained and scratchy. "Last-" Her head collapsed then, neck unable to keep turned any longer. Her muscles relaxed, her coughing stopped, and she was still in the grass beneath him. Her eyes opened one last time and stared into his own, shining with an intelligent, emotional, almost human light.

And Grimmjow looked back, feeling that somehow, she needed this. To know she was not alone in these final moment of her life. He could almost believe he saw in her eyes what he had seen in Ulquiorra's and Nel's. A need to change, to see the world beyond all of the death and despair put on her for so many years. And something akin to recognition flitted through him, or at least, he thought it did. But the flittering, teasing feeling would not disappear and the moment seemed to stretch on into forever, watching this demon die, and he could not ignore it. He had seen so many demons die in his life, and yet, this one struck a deep, unnerving cord within him. The itching became fiercer, a burning refusing to be but out. A memory, quick and sudden but bright in his mind as the sun above him, flashed before his eyes. A young girl with short blonde hair and a devious smile with clear intelligence, and despite the fact that the eye color was wrong, he knew immediately that it was the woman before him. He could have questioned it, and upon reflection, he should have. It sounded crazy even to himself, to believe that he knew this woman so suddenly and so surely, but it was so very true that it rung deep in the most hidden, forbidden chords of his heart. He felt a word pass his lips, and barely managed to identify it before it was gone.

"Lilynette."

Her eyes widened briefly and suddenly filled with tears. Desperately, she reached a hand up to him. Grimmjow dropped to his knees beside her, taking her hand in his own. He could see her now, the little girl in the flash, lying before him. But why?

"P-P-" She gasped longingly for breath. Grasping for one last word as though this last one would send her to her rest peacefully. Tears leaked in streaks down her cheeks. Her lips tilted gently upwards, so very softly.

"Pantera."

And with that last breath, her eyes closed, never to open again.

_Pantera…_

And suddenly, he was no longer on the church grounds.

"_Stark! Look what I got!" A tall man stood before him, eyebrow raised._ No, not tall,_ he realised suddenly. He was just short. _A child. _The man, Stark, the same Stark he had witnessed at the church, had wavy brown hair and grey eyes, uninhibited as he had known them up until this point. However, it was arguably not at that point at all. Clearly this was the past, as Grimmjow was seeing from the point of view of a child, and dare he say it, a past life, so therefore this would have actually been the Stark he had known, contrasting to the demon at the church instead of the other way around._

_Past lives were not unheard of. Demons were technically reincarnations of the souls damned to hell. Even children born of demons, as he was experiencing, were born of an expired human soul that did not have enough inside of it to warrant even a rebirth in its' own image. Instead it was born of two other doomed souls, and though still technically the same soul, did not carry the same behavioral attributes and none of the physical attributes of the original. It could be considered its own soul, though it did have tendencies towards whatever was left in the damned human soul from which it was made possible, depending on how much was left at the time of death for the human or reincarnation into demon child, though it was not known as of yet when the soul was actually formed. It was thought that such souls were the results of suicides of people with terrible lives, having little in their hearts and nothing to live for, and therefore not complete souls. By taking their own lives they were guilty of murder and were sent to Hell regardless of extenuating circumstances. A second theory was that the suicide patients lost a part of themselves during the murder of themselves, as most murder victims had a vengeful feeling against the killer and therefore something within them directed at something else. Already feeling nothing towards the world and not feeling any need of vengeance took away their only hope for a complete soul, albeit a dark and evil one, and therefore any hope of a demonic rebirth in their own form._

_But that was all speculation and Grimmjow had never heard of a human returning from such a state. Is that what he was then? A suicide case reborn to into a demon form and then reborn to human?_

_Was that even possible? Shouldn't his soul have been shattered into infusible pieces by now?_

_Stark was moving though, so speculations would have to wait._

_Stark kneeled down to him He seemed somehow younger, despite demons never truly aging once they reached a certain point. Younger not in body though. He radiated a youth and spirit untainted by the desperation he had seen in so many demons. _

_Stark took the item Pantera had offered him what seemed like hours of Grimmjow's thoughts before. It was a cowboy hat._

"_What's this for?" he asked, smiling indulgently at him._

"_Well," Pantera stammered. "I saw on a human tv this movie about them, and they reminded me of you!" he said, growing braver towards the end, clearly not wanting to lose face._

"_Hmm," Stark murmured, tracing the outline of the hat before putting it on. "What do ya think?" he asked with a silly grin, obviously trying to humor him. _

"_I think it makes you look cool!" he said, nodding his head in boyish pride. _

"_Thanks, Pantera," he said, ruffling his hair. _Much too long hair,_ he realised. It was as long as his released form. _

_The boy, Pantera, who he was obviously seeing from, huffed and tried to fix his hair. He noticed also that his hands were obviously clawed. So then whatever this form was, it was his released form. Grimmjow did not like that realization, as it not only pointed further towards this demon child being a past life, but also that the same past life has spilled over into his next one._

"_What's with the hat, Stark?" came another voice. He looked over to see a young girl, about his age in this vision, running towards them. Obviously another demon, though he could not figure out what kind. She was not advanced enough, it would seem, to gain actual attributes. Demon children did grow into them with time, in some cases._

"_Pantera got it for me. He thinks it looks cool." He lowered the hat so it overshadowed one eye. "Don't you think so too?"_

"_Oh yea," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Super dangerous."_

"_Oh shut up Lilynette!" he sneered, playfully pouncing on her with feline grace._

_Lilynette rolled with him and he found himself crouched across from her, feeling his grin spread wide in manic, childish delight. _

"_Oi, you two cut it out!" Stark called to them, picking each up by the scruff of their necks. He gave them a tired look. "You two are gonna have me running around after you for eternity, aren't you."_

"_Yea right!" Lilynette snapped. "You wait until I grow up and then I'll be on your case all the time!"_

"_Tch, still holding out hope he'll mate with you?" Grimmjow-Pantera-_I don't understand_ laughed snidely. _

"_He'd better! He needs a woman like me to keep him in line," she said with vigour. _

"_Yea, but you're not a woman. You're just a little girl!"_

"_Shut up!" she snapped, obviously not happy with the assessment of being unfit for Stark to mate with. "It's not like he needs you for anything, so just shut up!"_

_And, surprisingly, he did. He curled back from the comment. _

_A deep sigh from Stark brought their attention back to him. "Lily, go play," he ordered, setting her down and pointing away. "I'll talk to you later." Both clearly heard the underlying threat in his voice._

"_Yes Stark," she murmured dejectedly and scampered off._

_Stark set Pantera down as well and sat beside him. _

"_Look Pantera," he said, obviously trying to find the correct words. He was clearly not used to this sort of thing. "I know Lilynette can be harsh, but what she's saying isn't true, alright?" he comforted, petting his hair with his too long nails. Claws, he supposed. "It doesn't matter that we haven't known you for as long, okay? I think you're a good kid, I like you. And I'm gonna take care of you. You know that," he said, pulling Pantera into his side._

I can't differentiate between us anymore,_ he realised sombrely. _Between the man I am and the demon I was_. _Maybe I'm not supposed to.

"_Really?" he asked, looking up at Stark hopefully. _

"_Of course, kid," he smirked, squeezing him lightly. _

_Pantera shuffled slightly then climbed eagerly into Stark's lap. He snuggled easily against him and yawned cutely. "I don't wanna be alone anymore," he whispered, looking up at Stark again, eyes pleading._

"_No one does," he reasoned, smiling at him paternally. "But you don't have to worry. I'm gonna be there for you. I promise."_

_Pantera grinned widely at him and snuggled back down to sleep_

Grimmjow felt his eyes fly open and, with an intense disorientation, found himself back on the grounds. He saw the dead body of the demon beneath him, starting to dissolve into the dust which their bones should have always been.

He felt a strong invading sense of sorrow at seeing her like this surge through him. The picture of the little girl in his mind translated itself onto her.

"I'm sorry, Lilynette," he whispered. And he was.

_I knew you once, long ago._ _Are we so different?_

He looked up and met Stark's eyes. He looked so much more world-weary than his visions.

"Impossible," Stark whispered, stepping, almost falling, back a bit.

The two stared at each other, long and hard. Two souls, reunited only to fight and kill each other. Souls which had sworn never to harm the other.

And Grimmjow knew this demon, or at the very least, he felt he did. He could still feel a resonating idolising sweeping through him, a feeling a boy looked to his father to. Pantera, or whatever was inside him making him feel these thing, was furiously claiming that Stark would never hurt him, despite not truly knowing him. And yet, had Grimmjow himself not just killed Lilynette? A girl he had obviously felt similarly towards in a past life? What kept Stark from killing him in this life then?

Grimmjow was able to accept many things very quickly, given the proper evidence to believe them. Denial never led to anything but added sorrow later and an inability to grasp the full situation. And without that hold on the situation, you were put at an extreme disadvantage, and you would inevitably die. A lesson pounded home during his years of training with Yoruichi. And despite perhaps never getting over his parents death, he was at least able to accept they were dead and articulate how it affected him. Thus, he knew some things for sure of his current situation.

He had been a demon in a past life, and likely a suicidal human in a life before. He had been intimately connected in a familial fashion to the two, now one, most powerful demons in the word. He could remember tiny snippets of his life as a demon, re-establishing the connection he had once had with the demons. He had just killed one of those demons. Most prominent and important at the time, though, was that he knew he would likely die very soon. And, seeing as how he had just murdered Stark's mate, he would likely die by the hand that had once cared so deeply for him.

Fate was cruel, Grimmjow had always known that. Perhaps he had never known the extent of it. Not until then.

"My, my," came a trilling voice, similar to Kisuke's actually.

_Kisuke…_ He snapped back into himself. Whatever that vision had been, it was no longer him. He was not Pantera, he was Grimmjow. His father was Kisuke, his mother, Yoruichi, his lover, Ulquiorra, his sister, Nel. He knew this.

And yet, it was still so hard to separate himself from what he knew were Pantera's feelings.

Perhaps he would never be able to truly separate himself from Pantera, and he would definitely have to deal with the psychological issues that this would most definitely bring up, if he lived long enough to ponder on them. Still highly unlikely. Easier, then, to just accept and adapt for the moment. Even though he was once connected to Stark, was once a demon, there were people in this life who needed him and who he would fight to protect. He had been Pantera, but he was now Grimmjow. And Grimmjow was bound and determined to fight for his own life and the lives of those he now cared for.

He quickly glanced over to Nel, still lying on the grass, clearly unsure of what was going through his mind. But her face was enough. She needed him. And he would try, even if he failed, he would try to protect her.

"What did I miss?" the pink haired demon, Szayel he recalled, trilled. "What did we all miss?"

He scratched his head and sighed. "Regardless, I have a question for you, Mr. Seer," he said, entering the grounds and burning with the best of them.

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes at him but didn't give him much focus. He looked down at the dusty remains of Lilynette's body. In that it was only dust. He held his hand up, closer to his face and watched as the rest blew away. Mournfully he lowered his head, taking in a single moment of silence for her, and had he looked, would have seen Stark copying the motion.

_I was a demon, I knew these two demons, I was friends with them. And I killed one of them. She at least deserves my respects._

Grimmjow looked back at Szayel, eyes icy, cold and hard.

"Tongue tied I see. Very well, I'll ask you anyways." He regarded him for a moment, likely debating how to spring whatever question he had in mind. He seemed the type to have a flare for the dramatic, so he would probably try to cause a reaction in him. And, despite his best efforts, the question would never have left him without a reaction, no matter the prep time he would have gad for it. "Why do you carry the scent of Ulquiorra?"

Grimmjow felt his eyes widen and his hands shake lightly.

"And the scent is not on your skin but in your blood," he pointed out, tsking. "You've gone and mated with him haven't you."

"What the fuck is going on?!" came a hoarse shout which Grimmjow dully recognized as belonging to Nnoitra. Oh yea, he was still there, wasn't he.

"Well, well, two birds with one stone then," Szayel said in obvious delight, quickly pacing back to safer ground for him.

Stark stared at him, eyes not betraying a thing. Grimmjow couldn't find it in him to lie in the moment.

A scream brought him out of his glazed stupor as he snapped his neck around to stare at Nel, with Nnoitra's hand wrapped around her neck. "I at least know what that means," he hissed. "So come with us, or I break her pretty little neck."

Grimmjow bared his teeth. "You won't," he called him out. "I know you won't, because you wouldn't do it for me or anyone else but yourself."

Nnoitra growled at him but made no move to counteract the point. Reaching for his dropped sword, Grimmjow decided he would at least attempt to take as many down before they killed him.

"But I would."

Grimmjow froze.

Stark's eyes were unblinking and dangerous, an uncontrolled flame contained within an area, yet destroying everything within it.

Grimmjow knew an empty threat when he heard one. This wasn't one of those.

"Come with us, or I'll kill her."

Nnoitra let out a possessive roar at this but Stark ignored him.

"Leave the sword."

Grimmjow dropped his head and slammed his fist against the ground.

"Damn you all back to Hell where you belong!" he screamed at Stark.

"Don't forget," he said in a deadly calm voice. "That includes you now too."

Grimmjow grinded his teeth but forced himself off the ground.

"Fine, then," he snarled darkly.

"Szayel," Stark said, still not looking away from Grimmjow. "Make sure to get a demon here to inform Ulquiorra what has happened and where he can find us."

"You got it boss," he said, saluting with a bandaged hand. Grimmjow briefly wondered what happened but decided to forego such a question. He had bigger problems.

Stark, grabbed his arm roughly and led him away from the church, Nnoitra doing something similar with Nel, who was making small crying sounds behind him. How he longed to comfort her, but he would have to wait.

He saw a car parked not far away, fancy, new and white. A limo.

Stark pushed Grimmjow in beside him, making sure the doors were securely locked so he couldn't escape. Nel was pushed into a similar position with Nnoitra between her and Szayel. Grimmjow tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she could only stare back at him in sorrow.

Locked inside a car with three powerful demons who would not blink if they tore him apart and defenceless without his sword, unable to protect the only demon who would care about him and she being truly powerless in such a situation as well while seated beside her abusive and hate lover while he sat beside his dearest friend from a past life whose mate he had just killed, who was also a past friend, Grimmjow could think of but one thing that would sum it all up.

"Well doesn't this just fucking suck."

**XXX**

**AN: **Okay, so this didn't take as long as I thought it would. Mainly due to the fact that I had a serious inspirational moment/day/whatever for some reason. Not sure, guess it just hit me.

Stark and Grimmjow. I have always just invisioned them meeting and because they're both such cryptic and intense and, yes, monologuing characters who get more across in thought and expression than actual words, I needed this meeting to be pretty intense. I hope it was! I had a lot of fun writing the mind games part, as I have so dubbed it because that's all they're doing. These are currently my two favorite characters of the story so I wanted to do their meting well.

I like the thought of their own sanity working against them, as Stark only half gets what's going on, pointing to him maybe descending (MAYBE! Not for sure though) while Nnoitra, who has completely descended, totally sees past all the games and knows exactly what's going on.

Grimmjow killed Hallibel. Or Lilynette. Guess I should mention that. More will be revealed later, like why her eye color changed and all of their relationships to each other. For now, all you need to know is in the story. I am such a tease. I should make a note that the foreshadowing during Stark and Szayel's chess game was about Hallibel's death. Go back and read it if you want but it's pretty obvious.

And Grimmjow was a demon. Why? Because it's a Bleach fanfic and is not complete without unseen plot twists! Ok, possibly seen. I wanted a way to connect Stark and Grimmjow and really give more depth to both their characters. I have planned this for a while so I hope it worked and didn't feel totally out of left field. Ok, so it kind of was, but I wanted it to feel like that. Gives him some serious issues, doesn't it. I just hope it makes sense to everyone. I hope it worked for you!

This whole confontation was the very first scene I ever dreamed up for the story, Grimmjow at the church against the Espada at dawn, near the graves during the mind games with Stark. It was a picture in my head and I liked it enough to begin making up a story around it, and later, write it out and post it. So, basically, this story brought to you by this chapter.

Sorry about not adding an Ulquiorra, Kisuke or Yoruichi, but the chapter seemed to stand on its own for me.

I hope I did ok, because I really wanted this chapter to work and to be interesting. I love the story I've created and it really is turning out better than I'd ever dreamed. I'm not being cocky and I don't mean to come off that way if I seem to be, but I am proud of this story so I really hope you are all enjoying it thus far. So, as always, please read, please review, and thank you for giving this story your interest.


	18. Shattered Glass

**Chapter 18 **

Ulquiorra examined the crystalline glass housing his beverage distastefully. It was not that he didn't like wine, quite the opposite really. Wine, when done right, was a thing of marvel, really. It had a delectable taste, each brand and blend different than the other, some more exquisite then others. As demonic nobility, in a sense, he had always had access to such high class accessories. The highest of class, in fact.

It was widely known that the Espada drank human blood at their leisure. Much like wine, this was not for any sort of pleasure of taste, though the demons that enjoyed drinking the blood of the mortal vermin were in no short supply. No, the Espada drank for the same reasons humans drank wine; a status symbol. That they would have access to it so easily and such a plentiful amount was enviable the world over for demons. Normally, should a demon wish to acquire human blood, as there was an addiction evident within it to some, if not most demons, it would have to be taken in a discreet way, and usually drained and drank from the owner immediately, sometimes gouging out pieces of flesh along with it. To Ulquiorra, this was akin to drinking the rawest form of low class wine. Undistilled and undesirable. He looked down on the lowly demon filth that shrank to such a level that they would be on par with a mosquito. As easily crushed, as well. Pathetic.

For the Espada, the blood was always mixed to perfection and tasted of the finest red wine with a hint of something forbidden and dark within it that gave off even more of a superior air than they would have naturally. Death and murder were such mundane things to the Espada and could be handled without any effort at all.

It was all the little things that came together in the end to put them above the rest. They the Espada, the superior and the elite, the privileged and the subtly manipulative. Hallibel's work really. The haughty, superior attitudes, the white surroundings and attire and of course, the blood drinking.

Historically it was not uncommon to see inscribings of kings and powerful figures drinking the blood of his foes. It was symbolic, of course, and Hallibel had likely followed in their footsteps. Every little detail perfected down to the last drop of carefully mixed mortal blood was effective in elevating them above the norm.

And yet he felt great contempt towards the glass of wine that so reminded him of his social standing and hierarchical position and power. Was that why he so despised it in the moment? After all, was it not everything he had tried to erase from himself for months on end?

Part of it was this, certainly. But experiences associated with items could have an effect as well, and he knew wine would be tainted now to him forever as he associated it with the woman he had grown no fonder of in the past day he had spent with her. Moments of memories invaded his minds' eye, reminding him of another alcoholic beverage shared at sunset, consumed rapidly and leading to ultimately mating with the man he loved.

The poor wine. It had never stood a chance.

"Not much of a wine connoisseur, are you." The voice was a deep, feminine voice with much seduction and underlying meaning. A voice he had heard much over the past few days. He had to wonder if she liked her voice so much that she would use it so often.

"Quite a refined one, actually," he corrected, not turning to dignify the woman with a look. He rarely used her name, even in his mind, as it somehow justified a connection to her, something he wished not to harbour at all. If spending time with her had taught him anything, it was that she should not have left Grimmjow. Ulquiorra had known he hated her, but was not aware of the degree until he saw her. Here was the woman who had tormented his lover's mind for so many years. Mates would normally kill such influences on their other's life, but no. He was bound by Grimmjow's familial affiliation with this woman and it aggravated him to no end. The least she could do was leave him alone.

"That's fine wine," she insisted, taking a seat on the other end of the table. "I'm not too bad off despite my situation."

Ulquiorra regarded her coolly. "Indeed," he said, swirling the glass lightly and watching the small wave in the wine it created.

She huffed in indignation. "Not much of a talker, are you."

Ulquiorra merely hummed in response, watching the wine uninterestedly.

Shihoin Yoruichi. How could one describe her? Well, he supposed if he wasn't biased it would be easier.

Flashing, intelligent yellow eyes watched Ulquiorra sharply and he could feel the gaze without actually seeing her eyes. The shock of yellow was only further pronounced against her mocha skin and strange, purple hair that should have clashed but looked fine on her. Even more clashing, if she were anyone but herself, was the orange jacket she insisted on wearing. Her coloring rivalled Grimmjow's in the strangeness of it all.

She herself was a strange woman. She seemed to defy norms even in her coloring, but certainly not limiting herself to only that. Oh no. Yoruichi was a study in contrast unto herself. She portrayed such a childish demeanor not unlike Neliel in immaturity, though without the high pitched voice. Even her humor seemed to possess a level of immaturity he wondered if Urahara could achieve. Usually nude jokes. He'd walked in on her more than one time scantily clad but for important parts and at times not even those were spared. He hadn't been jarred the first time and each subsequent encounter had been less and less tolerable. He suspected this was why she continued to initiate them.

And yet, she had a quiet, dark presence that spoke of a dangerous power hidden beneath the wake. And he believed that, from all he'd been told about her. She could be reserved and refined when she chose. He suspected that the childish persona was a façade developed to fool opponents or, is she was as much a mess as the seers he'd met up until now, fool herself. He wouldn't put it past her or any of these 'gifted' mortals. He respected and loved Grimmjow for his power and his insight and his capacity to forgive and help creatures like him, and he had grown to respect Urahara for, even though he was sometimes very immature, his intelligence and inner strength. This woman surely possessed similar traits that would earn some forgiveness in Ulquiorra's eyes for her negatives, and yet she just pushed it too far for him. He supposed he was biased though for Grimmjow's sake. Despite it all, though, even his respects for the seers he had come to know, he could fully admit that they had probably knocked one to many screws loose somewhere in their heads. Understandable, of course, but unhinged all the same.

"I always encounter demons that are fiery and intense, not so cold," Yoruichi pushed. Clearly, she desired conversation. Perhaps she had grown bored from her time in isolation. How desperate then to rely on the company of a demon and sworn enemy.

And yet, not so. She was not so cut off from civilization, if such a thing could be said for the company she kept. Civilization could be pushing it.

The woman's name was Sui-Feng, if such a loathsome creature had any sense being called such a thing with which he associated the sex. His main comparison point was Neliel, and therefore he judged her based on his experiences with her. Whereas Neliel could be charming in a roundabout way, her genuine childish and curious nature, her honesty and ability to be humble despite her aristocratic position, and of course, her connection to Grimmjow that seemed to bring him some form of happiness, Sui-Feng was a shrill, irritating woman with little presence beyond obedient to Yoruichi and indignant of any other form of intelligent life. He chose not to include her in that assumption as she followed Yoruichi's orders and nothing else. He had seen far more practical machines with greater abilities. They were normally silent as well.

Sui-Feng had apparently been a long-time friend- though he hesitated to use such a word; more appropriate would be something to the effect of 'tool'- of Yoruichi, meeting at a much younger age. She had been in the area and assisted Yoruichi in the odd demon hunt as well as acquiring basic necessities for her well-being.

Yoruichi was a decorated seer, having many higher ranking demon kills under her belt, as well as Szayel's own brother and lover, Yltfordt. Any connection to the Espada earned respect, apparently. Wouldn't Szayel be so interested to find her. He'd been searching for so long.

But no matter. It was hardly the point.

Clearly, the respect was valid enough to have a near religious follower idolising her so greatly.

When Ulquiorra had witnessed the relationship between Yoruichi and Sui-Feng, he had assumed it was akin to an unsuccessful mating proposition on Sui-Feng's part, so desperate was she for Yoruichi's attention and affection. But apparently not. Her singular desire to serve Yoruichi put up a strong defence though, and he often found himself questioning it regardless of what was said about the matter.

"Your time would be better spent propositioning your servant for a conversation. You shall not acquire such from me," he replied, tapping the glass lightly with his claws.

"You've helped me," she said, frowning in an exaggerated fashion at him. "Sorry for trying to get to know you."

"It was not for your benefit that I have done so."

Yoruichi sighed, letting her head fall into her hand, elbow resting on the table. "Ah, Grimmjow," she sighed and Ulquiorra's hand stiffened. "Silly kid, doesn't know what he's doing half the time," she laughed light heartedly. Ulquiorra, however, was far from amused. "I mean, look what he fell in love with!"

A wine glass shattered behind her head, sending tiny shards into her hair and the back of her shirt. She seemed to be relaxed, but Ulquiorra noted her rigid form.

"Your eloquence leaves something to be desired," Ulquiorra stated, voice no more emotional but Yoruichi would have been a fool not to hear the lingering fire beneath it. When had he gained such a short temper? Perhaps time spent with Grimmjow had done more to him than he was consciously aware of. "And I had thought women had it in spades."

"And I had thought demons had more control," she shot back, grin back in place. "Seems it's not so hard to get you riled up once I know your trigger."

"And you would use him in such a way?" Ulquiorra understood he was speaking from what little reservoir of emotion he had, currently heated by anger, but he had little care for it. Let this woman push him further and further, until the point when he was no longer responsible for his actions. Let her death fall on her, then. "Has he so little meaning to you that you would use him as nothing but a taunt? Surely you've done him enough harm. Must his very essence be sullied by your poisoned tongue when he bears no presence here?"

Yoruichi, quick to anger, stood abruptly and bared her teeth heatedly at him. Perhaps she had had some effect on Grimmjow, then.

"_My _poisoned tongue? How dare _you defile my son_! Espada scum! Your very nature reeks of poison! You are nothing but blood-sucking leaches, but without the innate nature of a leach that makes it acceptable. You have no right to stand in sight of my son and yet you _mate _with him. Suckling hell-spawn, you're nothing but a plague on this world and Grimmjow! Go back to Hell and curl up in the devil's bed for all I care! How dare you accuse me of causing harm to the boy I took in and raised and loved while you have done nothing but spread your demonic essence onto and into him. If he knew what was good for him he'd stab you through the heart with a sword and be done with it without a second thought!" Her fury was palpable, but he was far from calm himself. He was never proud of the times when he rose to take the bait, few and far between as they may be, but he felt it justified then.

"And yet, you leave such a child, already weakened from the loss of his parents, quite tragic if I am to believe what I have heard, to hide in the desert far from those who needed you." Ulquiorra was at least significantly more in control. "But he does not need you any longer. He has grown beyond needing you. He has me now."

"As if he doesn't carry the world on his shoulders already, he has to add a demon, an Espada, to that," she sighed with lowered eyes and an almost exhausted posture, seeming contemplative. She seemed to be talking more to herself. Ulquiorra had notice, almost immediately upon meeting her, that her moods shifted fast, faster even then Grimmjow's which were already hard for a previously emotionless being like him to follow. She whirled back on him though, quick to revert when she didn't think she had the upper hand. "But I did not leave him for nothing! I didn't want him to have to carry even more. I didn't want his death on my hands!" she howled. Ulquiorra decided he had been right, as he watched her arms thrash about haphazardly and exaggerated movements beyond what was needed. She was very over-dramatic and revelled in it, perhaps without knowing it. It had likely seeped over into other facets of her life, her very psyche even.

Speaking with a person with likely severe mental problems deterred him from arguing with her further. People such as her, mental scars or not, did not change their opinions easily. He, a demon especially, would never convince Yoruichi of anything. And at the very least, through the haze of her self-righteousness, overdramatic attitude and biased hatred of him, he had at least confirmed she cared deeply for Grimmjow. It was enough that he no longer wished to provoke her, if only in honour of Grimmjow.

"This conversation can serve no further purpose," Ulquiorra stated, reigning in his temper. He turned to leave.

"Wait!" she called, the previously hostility absent from her voice. He paused in his steps, though made no other indication as to hearing her.

"Look," she said in a placating tone. "I know you hate me, but I've accepted you as a part of my s-" she cut herself off, hesitating. "Grimmjow's life," she corrected. Ulquiorra suspected she wished not to anger him further. A wise woman indeed.

"For Grimmjow's sake, I am trying to at least gain some neutral ground with you, and believe me, it goes against everything I've ever known my whole life," she continued, scowling slightly. "Not only that, but I owe you a debt. If not for you, I would likely be dead. So, thank you for defeating the demon pack."

Ulquiorra had not moved during her speech. "It was not for you that I have done so," he said finally.

"I know. But still, I owe you my thanks." Despite the growl in her voice, obviously brought on by having to thank a 'suckling hell-spawn,' he could hear the sincerity in the words, however distasteful she portrayed it to be.

Ulquiorra turned his head slightly to see her better. "A pointless endeavor."

Her glare became more heated. "Perhaps you should assess your pointless endeavors before calling out mine," she snapped.

"I do not insist my own upon you. I should expect the same courtesy."

"You are a spiteful one," Yoruichi growled, the words ground out between her clenched teeth. "I don't know why you left the Espada to begin with."

Ulquiorra turned back to face her.

"You have no jurisdiction to judge me in such a hypocritical fashion. At the very least, my leaving has not negatively affected anyone that I should care about."

"Oh?" Yoruichi countered. "Do you think leaving Grimmjow now has helped him any?"

"His mind may be at rest knowing you are better protected. Urahara is a strong man, but it was with a heavy heart he accepted him leaving on his own to assist with a demon band that had nearly killed you." He gave her a bland look, condescending even. "And yet I had few problems dispelling them from this world."

"Are you calling me weak?" she snapped, clearly outraged.

"Not weak," he said contemplatively. "Thought undoubtedly you are out of practice if such a small band of demons could pose such a threat, and to a legend among seers, no less. No, I suppose my distaste of the situation lies in that you called upon a man, who seems to be at most on an equal level of power with you, to fight a battle in which you yourself were nearly killed. How selfish, then, to risk the life of the man you supposedly love for your own protection."

She sneered at him and gave a derisive snort. "Why should I expect you to understand human love? I promised Kisuke before if anything happened to me, I'd tell him and allow him to help. I understand his love because I feel my own for him, and I would want the same in return." A half dreamy look came over her face, but she quickly righted herself. "You walk a fine line with love between helping and hurting the other person, don't you agree?"

Ulquiorra frowned and turned away once more. "I do not," he said decisively. "I would not need such help, and therefore would not put him in harm's way."

He heard a condescending snort from behind him. _How unladylike. _

"Then we agree to disagree," she said. Perhaps the conversation would come to an end, then. He hoped so.

"I have agreed to nothing," he said before exiting the room.

Ulquiorra pulled his wings in tighter to him, feeling them bounce uncomfortably against the cave walls, narrower in what had been dubbed the 'hall.' Yoruichi lived secluded but comfortably. How the woman had managed to secure electricity in such a remote location with civilization less than that of which vaguely encompassed Las Noches. The only town-though certainly not the appropriate word, more accurate was a small collection of farms living close together- was nearly twenty miles away. He would give her this, she was resourceful.

"You seem in a rather unpleasant mood."

Ulquiorra stopped and turned his head to the right just enough to see the speaker. Urahara leaned against the cavern wall, one running perpendicular into some other 'room' or whatever you deigned to call the separate parts of the cave.

"Dealing with your wife has been more exhausting than I had anticipated." Ulquiorra was always very blunt about things, and despite knowing that speaking about the man's wife in such a way was somewhat harsh, he had few qualms about it on the whole. He need impress no one but his mate.

Urahara heaved a sigh, clearly meant to sound so tired, though he sensed some truth to his own exhaustion beneath the farce. "Ah, yes. You two certainly have your differences."

Ulquiorra held in a sigh of his own. He had grown to appreciate Urahara's company over his time spent in the dank cavern. Not to say that was much of a compliment as his comparing points were a woman he had inherently despised for jerking Grimmjow around emotionally, to put it not quite so eloquently, and a woman who, upon every sighting, he had a difficult time not backhanding through the wall. Urahara was ideal company in contrast. "I have attempted, at the very least. You expected no more from me in any case," he said. His tone was not quite so condescending and icy as when he spoke with Yoruichi. Of course it would always have an edge to it; Ulquiorra himself had quite an edge to him. But Urahara likely knew and accepted it, and would also likely appreciate the effort he put into toning it down a bit.

Ulquiorra knew that Urahara did not like him too much, if at all. However, he seemed to acknowledge that they would be a part of each other's lives, for better or for worse, and did speak to him as though he were another person, despite the fact that he really was not. He appreciated the sentiment and tried in turn to reciprocate. Besides, intelligent conversation was hard to come by and he felt he may go completely off the deep end should he not have _someone_ to speak with about matters of some substance.

"You're right," Urahara said, resigned. "Guess she's not helping, trying to get a reaction out of you all the time," he chuckled good-naturedly, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his wife's actions as well. Then again, this was Urahara, the man whose eccentricities knew no bounds.

Ulquiorra normally prided himself on being able to read the people around him and come to accurate or nearly so conclusions, and in such an enclosed space and spending such an elongated time in isolation with these people, he had originally suspected he would come to conclusions on all of them. Yoruichi was selfish and overdramatic, with admittedly good intentions distorted by years of mental suffering and enviable courage and determination nearly, but not quite for him, forgiving her short comings. Sui-Feng was a high strung, dependant OCD influenced individual who clung to a stronger person to give her some sense of reason or even personality, a waste of flesh though not of brains as that would infer that she had any to begin with.

Urahara was a mystery in and of himself, and Ulquiorra supposed he could not but begrudgingly give credit to a man who so easily masked his true intents from a creature who had mastered seeing through them.

"How much did you hear?" Ulquiorra questioned.

Urahara blew a gust of air out, sending a misplaced bang up which would ultimately come back to its original spot. A wasted effort, really. Humans didn't really have much breath, their breathing stopping after mere few decades. Why waste it?

"Suckling hell-spawn and after."

Ulquiorra made a 'hmm' sound before turning his head slightly away, eyes averted.

"I did not wish for you to hear that."

Urahara shrugged easily. "It's not like I didn't expect it. And hey, I owe you big time for taking care of that demon pack."

_Hardly, _Ulquiorra thought dryly. The demon pack had been a grouping of nine demons of average power. He had left early the first morning after they had arrived, sensing the demon reiatsu and following it to their squalled living conditions. The disposal had been simple and systematic. It had also been fairly tedious. They obviously could not match up to his power and therefore it seemed more like an errand than anything else. Still, Ulquiorra found he preferred killing for a cause as opposed to inherent boredom. At least it enacted some meaning onto his near pointless existence.

But seeing Urahara was what had made him proceed with no forewarning. Upon their arrival, Urahara had been filled with so much unabashed joy that Ulquiorra could not truly bring himself to dampen their reunion. He was attempting this 'empathy' humans seemed so enamoured with, and found that if it had been Grimmjow instead of Yoruichi, he likely would have reacted in a similar fashion, perhaps minus the bone-breaking smile. He wondered how his cheekbones stayed intact sometimes.

"It was a miniscule threat, at best," Ulquiorra said, a slight quirk of one lip, not enough to even make it a sardonic smirk or anything resembling a smile but just enough to make it a contemptuous superior expression. More of a way one would look at a bug and revel in their heightened purpose and power.

"Still, thanks."

Ulquiorra had felt little, if anything at all, when Yoruichi had thanked him. Likely this was due to his own predisposition of hating the woman, but also that her sincerity meant nothing to him as he hardly knew her and had no way of knowing how genuinely thankful or not she was based on an apology from her. Urahara was a bit different. Despite being unable to read the man, he was ever forthcoming with his own sincerity. Perhaps it just meant more to Ulquiorra coming from the man he had at least grown to accept easily into his presence, much unlike others who he, at best, tolerated.

Ulquiorra gave a small nod to indicate hearing him, but Urahara's grin belayed that hidden intelligence he suspected lay just beneath the surface of the impenetrable mask. Urahara knew it meant something, even a small something, to be thanked by him, and he mentally congratulated the man on somehow being a better seer than anyone he had ever met, despite actually being a sensor.

"We'll be leaving soon," he mentioned, shuffling slightly. Obviously he was not entirely happy with leaving Yoruichi, but he knew it was necessary.

"I am surprised you put up so little a fight in regards to leaving," Ulquiorra mused.

Urahara let out a chuckle. "A conversation starter at last," he said with a good-natured grin. "Well, to be honest, I think I'd miss Grimmjow." Ulquiorra blinked, too used to defending Grimmjow at that point. To have something said in his favor left Grimmjow with no heated or snarky rebuttal. How… disconcerting.

"You care about him quite a bit," Ulquiorra noted.

"Well of course!" Urahara said flippantly. He reined his eccentricities back in, grounding himself as it were. "I don't know if Grimmjow ever regarded me as a father. He had one, of course. He grew up with Hyorinmaru. And despite my own personal issues with his treatment of Grimmjow, training him to be a demon hunter at such a young age, and decisions in general, especially leaving Grimmjow to enact revenge for his wife, I know he was still Grimmjow's father and they loved each other." He smiled fondly if not a bit sadly, not bothering with covering up any emotion. Ulquiorra appreciated it. "I've never had a biological son, but if I had, I suppose I would have wanted him to turn out like Grimmjow. He's a good kid, deserves a good life."

"Did you ever desire a child of your own?"

Urahara seemed surprised by his inquiry. "Talkative today, aren't we," he teased. "Well, that's hard to say. I'm actually only about eleven years older than Grimmjow, so when he came to live with us, I was only twenty one. Before then, I hadn't really thought about kids. Yoruichi and I had been married about a year at that point, and we had discussed it. She wanted kids, told me as much. But I said no, perhaps it was the only time in my life when I did say no to her."

Ulquiorra was intrigued. "Did you not want the hassle when dealing with demons?"

"You wound me Ulquiorra," Urahara said, with no dramatic flair but hinted amusement. "You must think the worst of me."

"I apologize if I have offended you."

Urahara was surprised again. "Maybe you've spent too long underground. You feeling alright?"

Ulquiorra glared at him flatly for a moment. "Then why did you not desire children?

"Isn't it obvious?" Urahara said with a sad smile. "I didn't want my child to have to deal with this life."

Ulquiorra clammed up, not wishing to comment on what was likely a touchy issue.

Urahara pressed on regardless. "I've never met a single seer who ever enjoyed the life they'd been given. We all only wanted to be normal. That I would put that pressure, instill this undesirable and miserable life onto an innocent child, it just didn't sit well with me. How could I justify it? It would only be selfish."

Urahara seemed upset. Ulquiorra was never good at comfort in any form, usually not even with Grimmjow. He averted his eyes downwards in an attempt at respect. His decisions were admirable and very thoughtful, even towards a non-existent being. Ulquiorra had never sensed this type of compassion within Urahara before, but it did make him value his part in Grimmjow's life all the more for it.

After a few moments of silence, Ulquiorra broke it again. Unconventional and out of character for him, but he welcomed change as it progressed his desire of being worthy of Grimmjow in the end.

"I take it such a decision did not sit well with your wife."

Urahara laughed, a laugh filled both with bitter resignation and nostalgic humor.

"Ah, no. But, she respected my decision in the end. She tried a few more times but I wouldn't budge on it." He glanced back towards the 'hall' Ulquiorra had come through. "I don't know if she ever really forgave me. I understand she wanted a kid, most women do at some point, and perhaps it was unfair of me to demand we stay without, but I don't regret it."

"You had Grimmjow, though," Ulquiorra pointed out. "Did that not deviate your values to some degree?"

Urahara seemed to sense the curiosity behind the question, curiosity without judgement at his perhaps hypocritical actions.

"If you wanna take it that way, I guess," he shrugged. "Though I never saw it that way. Grimmjow was already born and bred into the lifestyle, and at ten, already trained to endure it. It felt more like my duty to help him, give him some semblance of a normal life, as opposed to a seer-driven one he would have gotten from any other family he was taken into, if he was taken into one at all. I suspect he would have had a very difficult time fitting in with a normal, non-seer family, having lived the life he did. With us, he had a mixture of both. I always felt it was best.

"I don't know if he ever considered me a father, I was so young. But I hope that, at the very least, on some level he considered me a friend."

Ulquiorra had seen Grimmjow comfort others on various occasions, usually Nel or himself. So he decided he would try. He hesitantly, stalling many times, put his hand on Urahara's shoulder lightly and squeezed once, gently.

"He speaks of you fondly," Ulquiorra stated, head turned to the side so as not to make eye contact. "Even when speaking in angry terms, there is a genuine affection in his voice."

Urahara gave him a grateful smile, or so Ulquiorra thought. Apparently, it was merely a prelude.

Urahara burst out into peals of righteous, loud laughter. "Ah, Ulquiorra," he said, between chuckles of course. "Take it from me," he said, now putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're not really the comforting type."

Ulquiorra lifted his hand from Urahara's shoulder as though it had been burned. "So be it then." He looked away uncomfortably.

"Now, now, don't be sad," Urahara cooed, patting Ulquiorra's head.

Ulquiora snapped his head to Urahara with a glare so feral and with such raw animosity that Urahara didn't know whether to laugh or scream. But being Urahara, he laughed.

"Not the touchy feely type either," he said, shrugging. "Well, in any case, we'll be leaving soon. Best get your things."

"What things?" he asked dryly before walking off, sick of playing Urahara's game.

"Oh come now! Surely you bought some sort of vibrator or something knowing you wouldn't have Grimmjow here!"

Urahara barely managed to dodge a red beam of power that he recognized as a Cero directed from Ulquiorra's finger.

"Eh too, Ulquiorra? Grimmjow's a bad influence on you."

Ulquiorra stopped and turned back just enough so he could see a sliver of Urahara in his peripherals. "Yes, I suppose so," he said with a hint of fondness, which he hoped was covered up under his usual apathy. But knowing Urahara, it likely didn't fool him. He sometimes wished Urahara would just play it straight, whether he was a devious genius or a raving lunatic. However, he was beginning to wonder how interconnected those two things really were.

**XXX**

Grimmjow glanced out the window but was unsurprised to see white wisps flying by. It was the same with any ascension he supposed. Still, being off the ground made him feel a bit uneasy. His center of gravity was off when there was no real ground to tread. He'd never been afraid of planes, per say. He just avoided them because of their claustrophobic feeling and the constant shifting in the air. Harder to fight a demon when you could be sent flying.

And such a fear had never been more justified as he currently sat on a very private jet with the Espada and co. Several other demons were on board to attend to the Espada's demands at will.

He knew they were headed for a remote location in Germany, but that was all. A very unspecific target. Grimmjow didn't like not knowing anything about the current situation, and he knew nothing about this one. It was frustrating. Or would have been, if he had had the focus he needed. He wished he could focus on anything that was relevant.

But no, instead he was being assaulted with various snippets playing out in his minds' eye of what had to be his past life as "Pantera." Fitting that he would have a connection to it in the next life. But he had been living in irony for the past few months so he accepted without too much issue.

Not… too much.

_How is this possible?_ Demons shouldn't ever warrant redemption in any form, much less a second chance as a human. It had never happened before.

Right?

Well, he didn't know. He had only remembered it after being re-exposed to demons he knew in the past, and it had taken a certain level of emotional connection and intimacy to actually trigger any memories from his past life.

_Lilynette…_

He'd started to remember more, of course. Despite the brevity of the flashes of memory, there were enough resurfacing that he was able to piece together little things about his time as Pantera.

_Not my time, _he thought dully. _My life. It was my life._

And he would have to face his past much sooner than he would have thought. If the sparse memories he'd acquired were any indication, he and Stark had been very close. Stark, from what he thought he could recall, had saved his life many a time and often acted as a father or brother figure when the need arose. A guardian and a friend, at the very least. A lingering affection clung to the specific memories involving Stark, as much as the ones with Lilynette.

He was in two minds about how to handle the situation. He could accept the demon child Pantera as himself and act according to both lives and the whims of both, thereby gaining a more full understanding of what to do in such a situation and likely manipulations against the head demon himself that could save his or Nel's life, but may ultimately emotionally compromise him and endanger both their lives in turn. He could, instead, choose to shut out any connection to Pantera and focus on his own predicament according to his life, which would leave him more decisive when situations arise and eliminated the threat of sympathizing with a being who could easily kill him if given the chance, but may miss out on important information that could help him against the same demon and even deny a part of himself, an unhealthy alternative if he was to go on what he'd seen from other seers with repression.

He was still objective about it, and knew that if he did not decide soon which to choose, he would inevitably succumb to his memories and the emotions attached and ultimately choose the first option, whether it was for the best or not.

A shadow fell across the left side of his face and he resisted the urge to jump, instead looking over. He needn't really, as when he did this any other day he was likely assessing the situation to the possibility of a demon. Kind of pointless at the current time. It was more habit than anything that had him looking.

He found himself staring down the last face he wanted to see, and one that he couldn't seem to stop thinking about. Now, saying that Stark was the last face he wanted to see was sort of a big deal because anyone he could have turned to would have been a demon anyways. A shame this demon both set off his instincts to kill him and buckets of inner emotional turmoil.

Neither seemed very willing to be the first to say anything. Stark was a very intimidating presence to behold despite the fact that he seemed relaxed, hands in his jacket pockets and weight shifted slightly to the left like he could really care less. Even his eyes were deadly calm. Maybe that was the problem.

"Stark." Grimmjow didn't like that he'd been the first to crack, but cut him some slack; he'd had a hard day.

Stark nodded his head in acknowledgement. "You probably know why I'm here."

Grimmjow sighed and leaned back in his chair a bit. He would give the Espada this much, they knew how to travel in style. The private jet was teeming with the luxuries only aloud to the most outlandish sums of money and high class prestige. So, that in mind, Stark sat in another, similar, posh white leather chair opposite Grimmjow's, facing him. Grimmjow had noticed a very distinct white motif going on. Nel hadn't been kidding about the Espada's little white fetish.

"I can think of a few reasons why you might be," Grimmjow said, eyeing Stark hesitantly. Yes, his eyes had definitely changed from Pantera's memories. He'd grown old since he'd last seen him- well, since he last remembered him.

"Well, we'd better get started then," he said. Stark snapped his fingers authoritatively and almost instantly a lower class demon was beside him, leaned into a heavy bow.

"Yes, Master Stark?" it asked reverently.

"Champagne, two glasses. The best we have aboard. Not doctored."

"Of course, Master Stark." Grimmjow notice a slight hesitation before it spoke, though whether it was from being forced to serve a human their finest champagne or that Stark would want to drink something that was 'not doctored,' he didn't know. He didn't really want to.

As it scampered away, quite quickly, Stark turned back to him.

"It's a seven hour flight, and I doubt either of us really wants to be lost in thought alone right now, so we best start talking," Stark shrugged, waving a hand in a motion that signified he should start questioning him.

"Guess you're right," Grimmjow conceded. He drummed his fingers a few times, trying to even think of where to begin.

"It doesn't have to be anything profound," Stark said dryly. "Just, whatever comes to mind first. We can go from there."

At that moment, the demon came back, bearing two sparkling drinks in fine crystalline glasses on a solid silver, heavily designed tray. It offered Stark the first choice, but he took both from the tray. Surprised, the demon stepped back and pulled the tray to its chest, watching with morbid fascination. Stark didn't seem to notice. He held out one of the drinks for Grimmjow to take, nodding to him. Grimmjow accepted it wordlessly, nodding in return as he sat back, glass now in hand. The demon, eyes wide and seemingly both disgusted and fascinated, made a hasty, somewhat rushed escape.

Grimmjow couldn't help but feel that something very significant had just happened.

"Why the champagne?" Grimmjow asked. Well, it was as good a place to start as any.

"I just lost my mate, who was killed by a reincarnation of a child I took care of years ago, meaning I am caught between wanting to talk to him and wanting to kill him, and now we have one less Espada to enforce law on demons the world over. You have been taken hostage by the most powerful group of demons alive along with your friend and soon your own mate as well, and have recently discovered you had a past life in which you were a demon yourself, that which you have fought and killed your whole life." He raised his glass, motioning for Grimmjow to do the same. "Best to start with a drink." The clinked glasses and Stark took a healthy swallow. Grimmjow hesitated a moment, allowing Stark's interpretation to sink in. _Best to start with a drink indeed._ He took his own large swallow.

"Why were you calling her Hallibel?"

Stark seemed a bit surprised. "That's where you want to start?"

"That's what I remember," Grimmjow shrugged. "She was Lilynette."

Stark sighed. "You may be getting more than you expect for your answer," he warned.

Grimmjow nodded. "Good."

Stark leaned his head on his arm, propped against the arm of his chair, and stared out the window into the blue, blue sky. It would be getting dark sooner than usual, because they were flying forward in time. Such a strange way to think about it.

"It started when we found you dying. I guess I'll start there. A bit before, actually. You were what humans call a pre-teen age, though you were technically older you appeared that age and had the demon mentality equivalent. You had been going off on your own more often, disappearing for hours at a time. I expected it, really. You were getting older. You needed your own time. I never knew what you did during that time, I never asked. You deserved your secrets." His eyes darted back to Grimmjow's for a moment. "If you ever do remember though, I would like to know."

He returned to looking out the window. He was probably trying to be lost in his memories, giving Grimmjow the best explanation he could. Grimmjow felt an immense appreciation for Stark. He was fair, more so than he would have expected of a demon.

"I'd always sort of kept a feel out for you. You had such a distinct reiatsu, it wasn't hard to keep tabs on you. You never went too far. Anyways, one day, you left as always." Stark's brow furrowed as though the memory brought back negative feelings for him. Likely it did, though. "It was so ordinary. You just gave a wave, a big smile on your face. I think you liked that I trusted you to go off on your own. You were always trying to prove how tough you were too me, even though you never needed to. I knew you were strong. I knew you could handle yourself, but I didn't-" He suddenly stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes scrunched closed tight. "I didn't expect.,." he shook his head and tried to relax, though his eyes were hard, and Grimmjow caught his deepened frown and a tilt of his eyebrows indicating he was holding back his sadness. "I just watched you run off. It didn't feel any different that day. It wasn't distinct, not at that point. But I remember it _so well_. Watching you wave and grin and turn and just… walk away. I didn't know that was the last time-" Stark grit his teeth roughly, Grimmjow could hear them grinding. "I didn't know. How could I have known? But I look back and wonder why I didn't. Why didn't I do something? Anything?"

The glass in his hand shattered and Stark's hand just remained in a fist, shaking. He was even cutting through his skin. Grimmjow didn't know what to do. He felt so… _bad._ This was his fault-

No. Pantera's fault. He wasn't Pantera. He wasn't…

Grimmjow, to both their surprise, grabbed Stark's shoulder roughly. He was standing over Stark now, his own brow furrowed. Stark looked up at him. Time could have stopped. There was something so _broken_ in Stark, and something Grimmjow had never known broken in himself.

"You can't change the past," Grimmjow said, and for some reason he felt his voice had aged. He wondered if he looked more world-weary. "And I need to know. I _need _to."

And he did. He desperately needed to know. What the fuck had he been, _am I now?_

Stark lowered his head and grabbed Grimmjow's wrist lightly, lifting it from his shoulder.

"I know," he said, waving for him to sit.

Grimmjow took his seat and waited. A picture flashed before his eyes. Stark and Lilyette waving, him turning away, running to somewhere, something… someone?

_Who…_

"Okay," Stark said, collecting himself. "Okay, well, after a while, you hadn't come back. But you were fine, I could feel that. But then… It was like I could smell your blood from there. Your power kept fluctuating, and you were afraid, and you were _fighting._ But you were just a kid!" His fist was shaking again. "Your reiatsu says so much about you, so I knew you were afraid. I knew what you were afraid of, because only one thing could make you so terrified. What could you do? You were so young. Maybe when you were older, but not then. And I was running like I never had before, because you were in danger, you were being attacked, and I had never prayed to a God that would damn us to this fucking life but I prayed, I _begged_ God in heaven to somehow save you, because you were just a kid! Even if you were a demon, you were a good kid, and you deserved a _chance!"_ He seemed to cave in on himself. "But what God would ever listen to a demon's prayer?" He gazed out the window, but Grimmjow knew it wasn't the darkening sky he was seeing. He could almost believe he remembered it, seers coming to get him, trying to fight, but it was just so distant and hazy he couldn't confirm if it was a true memory or a product of his own imagination. "I suppose it must sound strange that a demon would pray at all. But we would know better than anyone, wouldn't we? We know there is a heaven, because we _know _there is a hell. Why I thought God would help me, help you, help one of us though, I still don't know.

"By the time I got there, it was already too late. The seers were about to stick a sword into your gut, but when they saw me, they ran. Must have known I was too powerful, somehow." He sneered. "Cowards. Would kill a demon child but not a full grown one."

Grimmjow gave a small noise of his own disgruntlement. Cowards, indeed.

"I didn't go after them. I wanted to, but I didn't. You were there, lying in a pool of blood, so beaten and scratched and your breathing was so heavy and shallow, it sounded like you'd swallowed razors. I picked you up and held you in my lap. There was so much blood coming out of your little body, I remember wondering how it was even possible." The anger, the hatred was so clear in his voice it almost made Grimmjow shudder, but he could tell that it was layered in so much sadness and regret that he could almost feel sorry for him. "And you looked at me; you were still alive, just barely. I wondered if you could see me, because you seemed to have trouble focussing. I guess you did know it was me though, because you reached out to me, and I caught your little hand, claw, what have you, and realised that you were crying. Tears of blood, though. I think you didn't like that, because you didn't want to seem weak in front of me. You coughed a bit, blood coming with it, but you wanted to say something. When you were determined, you couldn't be stopped." Stark gave a bittersweet chuckle. "You asked me, in this little trembling voice, 'Stark, why-'"

"Why does God hate us?"

Stark turned his head so fast that Grimmjow barely saw the motion. His eyes were wide, so focussed. Grimmjow hadn't really meant to say that, but there was no taking it back now.

"Yeah," he conceded, swallowing thickly.

"You told me that you didn't know."

Stark just nodded.

"It's fuzzy after that," Grimmjow said, eyes no longer able to hold's Stark's intense gaze.

"You asked if I'd remember you. 'You won't forget me, right?' You didn't want to fade out completely, I guess. You knew you were dying. I can't imagine the feeling."

Grimmjow could. He was remembering his fucking _death._

"You said, 'never.' That's all I remember. Everything was watery and fading, but I can remember hearing that."

Stark nodded, a very, very small smile on his face. "At least it got through."

Both sat in silence for several minutes, unsure of what to say. How did you follow that up? His _death?_

"I held you for a long time," Stark continued quietly. "Even after you were gone, I couldn't let you go. I think I held you too hard, but it's not like you could complain.

"Lilynette found me like that. She saw us, saw you, and she just started screaming. She kept repeating 'no' over and over and she was crying and saying it couldn't possibly be true, from what I understood of her. She screamed nonsense for the most part. I know I should have comforted her, stopped her, done _something_, but I couldn't let you go yet. I just… I couldn't accept it. Neither of us could.

"I think she lost it, just for a few minutes. Lost it completely. She dove into your pool of blood, buried her hands in it. She said she wasn't going to lose you so easily. I don't know what went through her head, how she came to the conclusion to do what she did, but she started drinking it."

Grimmjow started. Demons drinking blood was nothing new, but drinking demon blood was very rare. That wasn't really what bothered him though. That Lilynette, that any demon, could have such an emotional reaction, to want to take the essence of another into themselves so as not to lose them, was so dark and twisted and ultimately _sad _that Grimmjow had to grit his teeth against a lingering guilt that he doubted he'd ever be rid of, because he had killed her.

"I was shocked, of course, but I think it was all too much for me to handle in the moment. She just kept drinking it. She dunked her head in at one point.

"I came back to my senses eventually, maybe a minute later. I yelled at her, and she stopped for a second, just long enough for me to put you down gently. I grabbed and pulled her away from the blood, and she screamed bloody murder and howled like she'd been gutted with a zampakutou. I tried to snap her out of it, even slapped her at one point. She did come down from wherever she was, but she was so… dead. She was staring at nothing, looked like she'd been blinded, and for a second, I thought she had been. Her eyes weren't pink anymore. They were green. And she kept saying she wasn't Lilynette anymore, she couldn't be, because she had you inside her.

"Szayel, our scientist, did tests years later when the Espada were formed. Reiatsu has a specific color for every demon, and it exists within us, in every part of us, in the blood. She'd drunk enough of your reiatsu that her eyes darkened, and so did her hair, by a very small amount. Her skin darkened as well, even darker than yours, though I can't imagine how. It effects everyone differently though. Apparently she could have achieved the same by eating your heart or something of the like. Would have gained the reiatsu regardless.

"She said she didn't want to be Lilynette anymore. That Lilynette was the name of a child who had known no heartbreak and had only possessed innocence. As much innocence as a demon could have, anyways. She took the name Hallibel, and I accepted it.

"Demon's don't love, I'm sure you know that. But Hallibel was as close as I would ever get. I loved her as much as I did you, perhaps it was not even in the right way. I mated with her in the end because, after all, we could only ever mate with each other. I wonder, if you would have lived if any of us would have mated. We would never have left each other, there almost would have been no need. We would have likely settled down in a strange, three person relationship that bordered somewhere between mated and family.

"I can't kill you," he admitted. "I see you now as Pantera, and I don't think I'll ever see you as anything else. You're too much like him. I can already tell. Even if you killed Hallibel, I can't in good conscience kill you when I know who you are. Who you were.

"Maybe it'll never be the same. You don't remember me and you have been reincarnated, so I'm sure you've changed. But it doesn't matter to me. I'll take whatever scraps of you I can get. Because Hallibel is dead, and Pantera is dead, I'll take whatever God or the Devil lets me have."

Grimmjow didn't know how long they sat there again. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, but it didn't matter. Not really. They were in a world all their own.

"We're probably gonna need more alcohol," Grimmjow said, chugging what was left of his.

Stark apparently agreed as he snapped his fingers and the demon reappeared. Grimmjow wondered what it had heard, if anything at all.

"Bring alcohol. Something strong," he ordered.

Stark settled back in his chair, probably trying to recuperate from the last talk. Grimmjow doubted that he himself ever would.

"So," Stark started, voice more at ease. Maybe it had been a relief to get it all off his chest. How long had he carried such a burden? "How's Ulquiorra?"

**XXX**

**AN:** Longest. Chapter. Ever. Man, I promised myself I was going to start making these shorter because it might be hard to sit through reading 8,000 words at a time. So, of course, why not make it 9,000! Seriously, over 9,100 words. Sheesh.

So, I didn't know if I would even mention Yoruichi, but I felt it necessary, somehow. Don't get me wrong, I love Yoruichi. She's cool. Ulquiorra just doesn't.

I clearly have issues with Sui-Feng. Okay, look. There are two female captains, two women who play in the big leagues with all the big bad powerful men (I say this with love, I adore the dude captains). Unohana is funny because she seems to be terrifying to everyone else. I draw problems with her too though. She's portrayed as "the healer," like a lot of powerful female characters. Why can't women come in and kick ass and take names? Then there's Sui-Feng, and I had such high hopes for her! But they turned her into a semi-lezbo-fan-service icon (you know it's true, and even if you don't, please don't yell at me, it's just my humble opinion) and made her defining character traits bitchy and obedient. It bothers me. Yoruichi doesn't get enough screen time in my opinion.

Do I draw issue with other female characters? Not really. I love Rangiku, despite being a fan-service model. She's just so much fun! Someone I'd totally hang out with. Rukia is pretty kick-butt, though I think she should totally be more powerful than they do make her (she could so kick Renji's ass, why can't she be vice captain?). I also really like Orihime, though I know I shouldn't. But she's just so willing to help and tries to be strong and she seems like a real person and reacts like a real person; terrified but she does what she can. She doesn't have the kick-butt powers but she works with what she has. A really defined character and strong in her own regard, in my humble opinion.

I also love Nel. Shocking.

Well that was a fun rant. Anyways, I found out that the most challenging, multi-faceted and confusing relationship in this whole story is Grimmjow and Stark. It's really hard to get across their relationship! It's supposed to be loving but not romantic, family but not really, father but brother, friend but closer, gah! Hard to write. But I love a challenge.

I actually wanted Ulquiorra and Urahara to come back in this chapter, but I ran out of room, because I was _not _making a 10,000 word chapter if I could help it. Next time.

I hope you liked the chapter! As always, please read and review and I'll be bringing you more soon. Thanks to everyone who likes this story because I do it all for you (and my need for attention)! Kidding!(?) Until next time, luv yas!


	19. Enemy Territory

**Chapter 19**

"Repeat," Ulquiorra said, no pretence of civility in his voice. "And explain."

Though you could never tell from looking at him, Ulquiorra was enraged. His teeth were clenched behind a well-disguised jaw, preventing signs of irritation or stress from showing through, a feat to be sure. His steely eyes were combatted by a loose brow, looking for all the world as if he didn't care. If, of course, you weren't the demon being stared down.

Or up, Ulquiorra supposed would be the proper terminology, as the weaker demon hung a foot off the ground with Ulquriora's claw throttling its' oh-so easily broken neck in a death grip that made no effort to hide its' irritation. It must have been great, if the laborious breaths drawn from the demon and the slight popping of its' eyes were to be taken into account. It had stopped struggling for the most part, only moving its' claws weakly against the defining strength of one of its' grandest superiors' claw in an attempt to garner a bit more air, if only to carry out the request presented to it and perhaps be rewarded with an escape from the dire situation.

Or perhaps it knew how useless such a venture would be. Ulquiorra was in a very bad mood and had, in his long past, resorted to torturous deaths and bloodshed to stymie his insatiable, though well-hidden and unexpressed rage. But he had it in spades now. And not for the humans he normally tortured, oh no. The human scum of the earth had at this point risen above and beyond his expectations and stood tall and high above the filth that littered the underbelly of the world with no use of existing at all. Ulquiorra had never truly hated before in his life, as hate would entail emoting and that was something he steadfastly avoided. However, now that he could feel love, or what he assumed was the demonic equivalent, he was more inclined to believe there could exist something at the opposing end of the spectrum of his newfound emotional gauge. And what better way to discover that bile-rising, indiscriminate and undeterred emotion of hate than to incorporate the champion of his love-end, Grimmjow. It was similar to love, in some ways. The all-encompassing nature of it was reminiscent as was the complete take-over of his mind to think in only one straight thought that repeated over and over, before having been "how can I be deserving of him" and the present being "how viciously can I rip out their throats?" It was a wash of emotion, though different in execution. He wondered if both would have led him to the same inevitable conclusion. He didn't like to think that, but he accepted lot of things he didn't like. This, though, was inexcusable.

Ulquiorra shook the demon once again, clamping a bit harder onto its' neck before releasing slightly. Merely a warning, but a menacing one at that.

"I said," it hacked, voice scraping through the stressed vocal cords and choked through a mouth somewhat dehydrated. "You have to go to the Espada to find the seer."

Despite this being his own request, Ulquiorra found himself far more enraged upon hearing it.

Ulquiorra glared out into the yard of the Las Noches church grounds, desperate to find something else to glare at as the demon's face was only disgusting him further. Urahara was walking with a lazy gait around, seeming very nonchalant but Ulquiorra knew better than to believe this. He was likely surveying the scene.

Ulquiorra, luckily, then would not have to ask how Grimmjow was taken. Urahara would be able to give him details.

"I see," he said, gripping tighter while the demon cried out in a tiny noise, somewhat resembling a frog. Blacker than average blood dripped from its mouth.

"Oh, let it go Ulquiorra."

Ulquiorra's eyes darted to the side. How odd. He had not even noticed Urahara's return. Perhaps he was losing his edge?

Looking over at Urahara, he doubted it. The man must have been as on edge as Ulquiorra, of not more so, and had probably ignited his own close-to-the-surface seer/sensor instincts. Urahara had always proven to be formidable, and even such a small show of power was admirable.

"I see no reason to do so," he commented dryly, frowning deeply.

"This is not that demon's fault," Urahara said, shrugging. Ulquiorra could not see his eyes as his bucket hat hid them most effectively. Judging by the surface tone only, Ulquiorra could believe him to be uncaring of the situation, optimistic and lighthearted even. But Urahara was a man of many, many layers and depths Ulquiorra was incapable of seeing. He wondered if anyone, even Grimmjow, could see them all.

"Its' life has no meaning to either of us. I find it a means of… anger management." Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed darkly at Urahara. "You need not fear for its life. It is, after all, just a demon. Is that not a seer expression?"

"You are a demon, just a demon," Urahara reminded him. "If not to me than to many others. Has this demon done more against anyone than you have? I suspect it has even done much less. And yet here we stand, a seer, or sensor rather, and demon standing side by side. So, even though it is just a demon, what more reason do I have to kill it than, say, you?"

"I have never threatened your son," Ulquiorra seethed, letting his irritation shine through unbridled.

Urahara barked a laugh in such a harsh and guttural tone that Ulquiorra briefly wondered if it had come from the demon.

"That demon is no threat to Grimmjow," he sighed, shaking his head mournfully. "No, it poses much less than you."

Ulquiorra was momentarily snapped out of his furious stupor into one of incredulity and insult. "I would _never_" he hissed darkly. "Harm him."

"No, not intentionally," Urahara conceded. "But the emotional and mental scars you pose for him could be just as damaging, if not more threatening."

At this point, he had all but forgotten the demon dangling in his grasp.

"I will protect him and love him for as long as I walk this plane of mortal scum and demon filth. You, who have inflicted more pain on him than I ever could, have no right to talk down to me." His voice was like nails on a chalkboard, ground roughly and painfully from something not meant to handle it.

"I haven't killed so many of his kind though, have I," he rasped back.

Ulquiorra ground his teeth together. These sorts of accusations were not relevant then.

"Enough. We shall discus this another time. For now," Ulquiorra said, turning back to the matter at hand.

Ah, he supposed that could have been a joke. Shame he wasn't in a funny mood.

He'd have to tell Grimmjow about it later though.

"No use holding onto it," Urahara said. "We know what we have to do."

Ulquiorra blinked, looking at him curiously. "We?" he repeated.

Urahara gave him an incredulous look of his own. "Of course, we. You didn't think I'd let you do this alone, did you?"

Ulquiorra glowered at him. "I can handle this myself. You have never gone up against demons of this calibre before. Besides Grimmjow is my mate and I shall handle this as I see fit."

Urahara grabbed his own neck and dragged him forward, clearly incensed. Surprise forced him to drop his own charge, which sputtered on the ground in dramatic, haggard breaths.

"He is my son," Urahara seethed, teeth bared in a near animalistic way, his eyes having an odd, deranged gleam in them. "And I will protect him. You, who have known him for a mere half a year have _no idea_ the place he holds in my heart. And if you go alone, you never will. I can't guarantee you will anyways. Not all of us will come out of this alive.

"But I will not stand idly by and watch my _only fucking son _DIE because my son-in-mate or whatever the hell it is you are to me was too stupid to take along reinforcements!"

Ulquiorra blinked. Urahara had actually hoisted him up off the ground by his neck. He wasn't exactly light.

"You consider yourself a logical reinforcement to take along to a demon mansion?" Ulquiorra was not impressed that his vocal chords were choked, making his voice come out a bit higher than average. "Put me down."

Urahara did, but the glare did not recede. "It will be swarming with them," Ulquiorra expanded. "Tons of staff, ground guards, miscellaneous, and four of the most powerful demons in existence against you, me, Grimmjow and likely Nel. They will sense you the moment you get within a hundred yards and probably just kill the lot of us. Taking you is suicide."

"Three," he corrected instantly. "Hallibel, I believe, is dead."

Ulquiorra came up short at that. "You believe Hallibel is dead?"

"She is the second most powerful one, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then I am positive she is dead."

Ulquiorra sighed in frustration. No reason to question him as he had yet to ever be wrong about anything, no matter how trivial. And this was most definitely not trivial. He would not have said it if he was not sure. "Fine, but that is only one less."

"They will not sense me," he assured him.

Ulquiorra gave him a baleful glare. "Oh?"

"Ulquiorra, I'm insulted. Did you think that I could only sense reiatsu?"

"You can do more?" he asked, tired of all of these stupid conversations. He only wished to get to the point.

"I can manipulate it. They will sense me as a demon."

"I still do not-"

"This is not your decision," Urahara interrupted. "I'm going whether you want me to or not. So we can go separately, or we can work together."

Ulquiorra huffed and allowed himself a true moment of selfish indulgence by damn near pouting. Almost. Not quite.

"Fine," he snapped. "We will need a plan."

"That we will. One thing first though," he said, tipping his hat slightly and pulling an intricately carved and quite beautiful sword from god knows where. He pointed it off to the side where only now did Ulquiorra realize the demon had crawled over too, clearly trying to escape. A burst of red light erupted from the end of the sword and struck it, slicing through the pathetic creature as it made one last pitiful squeaking scream and dissolving into dust and settling back to hell from whence it came.

Ulquiorra glowered murderously at Urahara. "So," he said in a carefully controlled voice. "What was your spiel about that demons' life supposed to mean when you kill it anyways?"

Urahara looked at him innocently. "Oh that? I just wanted the pleasure if killing it myself," he said with a face-wide grin. "Can't let you have all the fun now can I."

**XXX**

Grimmjow tugged at the bottom of the shirt he'd been given in vain. Despite his best attempts, the fabric refused to stretch in any direction, whether to cover his chest or stomach. Adversely, his pants were too long, billowing out around his legs until the came back to make a bell shaped pant leg at the heel. It was the most awkward set of clothing the Espada could have given him, but as they had taken his other clothes, he had little choice in the matter.

His new attire was, as expected from Neliel's numerous rants on his captors, white. He vaguely noticed that the insides of his jacket were black though, and he wondered if he was an exception to the rule, a seer and therefore separate from the other dwellers of the mansion, or if the death of the previous enforcer of the rule, Hallibel's, had served to impose leniency on the otherwise tightly controlled group of demons.

Grimmjow walked down a blank corridor, similar to every other. He imagined it would be very easy to get lost in such a place. Due to intensive training, Grimmjow could even recognize differences in the oh-so similar hallways, one after the other. Navigation was no issue.

Boredom certainly was. Couldn't they afford some sort of decoration on the walls? All the white was starting to give him a headache.

Huffing, he continued on his way. In reality, it mattered little. Why did he even need to know the layout of the mansion? The Espada and other lower demons were under orders from Stark, Numero Espada himself, not to lay a hand on Grimmjow except to stop him from escaping should he try. Unlikely, though. The grounds were guarded fairly well. Despite spotting several weak points in the routine of the guards (he suspected from lack of caring on Stark's part as he assumed such things had fallen on Hallibel beforehand) it was pointless to even attempt it without his Zanpakutou. Despite the sometimes flimsy guard schedule, there was no way he could try to escape and not be noticed without having to silence some odd guard or other. No, he was trapped in this little hell-hole until further notice.

He knew he should have counted his blessings (oh the irony). According to Stark, who had yet to be proven untrustworthy despite his inherent nature and Grimmjow's biases, he would be served a solid three meals a day, sometimes even snacks if such a thing was found near the grounds. He had learned not to trust the ones given to him by any demon other than Stark after squeezing a muffin too hard earlier and pricking his finger on a well-hidden pin.

Stark had been… less than pleased. He had not seen the demon again yet, and yes he had already begun to identify the surrounding demon personnel as a trained trait to assess fully any situation with demons and their countenances counted, and had mentioned it in passing to Stark. Stark had given him a sidelong glance and had said only that he was 'still alive.' After catching sight of a maddeningly, frightfully happy grin on Szayel's face some time later he had chosen to not look into the matter further.

In any case, on top of his meals delivered at regular intervals, he also had a nice sized room, complete with a big four poster bed (all in white of course) and a reasonable sized dresser and closet, which had seemed pointless because he only had the one outfit before actually checking and finding he had several of those same outfits. None of the shirts covered his chest or stomach though.

One thing he had briefly worried about was going mad for want of decent company and intelligent conversation. However, this seemed to resolve itself quickly as Stark had been around him more often than not, regaling him with stories of his and Hallibel's life, expanding on Grimmjow's sparse memories as Pantera and providing all around good company to bounce opinions off of. Though the conversation was sometimes tense and would run into inevitable awkward moments, it remained manageable and at least provided some form of reprieve from the utter boredom he would have been subjected to otherwise. If he wasn't a prisoner surrounded by creatures who wanted nothing more than to kill him and returning the sentiment in full, he may not feel so bad about the accommodations.

"Something bothering you?"

Grimmjow shot a deadly glare at Stark. "Oh, not at all," he growled. "I'm only here against my will and being used as fucking bait for Ulquiorra."

Stark sighed but didn't get mad. It was a touchy subject and Stark would have reacted no different in a parallel situation.

"Fine then."

Grimmjow dug his hands into his pockets and tilted his head back. They were entering one of the dining rooms, one of the grander ones he supposed. He had seen a smaller one some time ago. Stark had informed him that each Espada had a wing to themselves and had all the benefits therein of a comfortable home. A beautiful chandelier, thrice his own size he surmised, hung from the ceiling in pristine condition, candles lit throughout. Very old fashioned, to have candles adorning it. Long chain-like links of diamonds hung tastefully from it. The wall was decorated with white trimmed mirrors and long ornate shelves with intricate design hand carved across them.

The entire ceiling, as well, seemed to be hand carved with an entrenched insignia, a crest of some kind. He had seen similar ones throughout the mansion, each with a unique flavour as well. This was no exception. Within a spiral-like crest that spun out in what seemed to be waves were layers and layers of a near liquid texture. The waves became more concrete throughout the subtly spiraling water and formed half-corporeal claws that stretched in an outreaching motion towards the center, and by far largest and most eye catching part of the crest. All the water-like carvings flowed into a single piercing eye. The eye was strange though. It looked as though it were vibrating, as though he were watching something on tv and had paused it at an awkward time between a moving frame of an eye. Even then, the infinitesimal parts of the eyes not combined seemed to have tiny differences from each other. He wondered if the water surrounding it was water at all. It was hard to tell as it was carved in white.

Grimmjow suddenly realized he had outstretched his arm, reaching towards the crest-no. Not even the center. He was reaching to the little bits of the eyes on the outskirts of the center.

He pulled back his arm, hand closed in a tight fist, nails biting into his palm enough to nearly draw blood.

"Who-" Grimmjow struggled somehow to ask. _I think I already know. _"Whose wing is this? Who's crest?"

Stark watched him closely, no emotion showing on his face. Somehow, though, Grimmjow sensed he was in pain.

"Hallibel's," he answered and his voice was weighted with a deep, resonating sorrow that seemed amplified in this place so beholden to his mate. He too turned his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Grimmjow couldn't imagine what was going through his mind right now. He felt that he didn't want to.

"Striking crest," he commented, desperate to alleviate both Stark's misery and his own sense of unease.

"It strikes something in you, I see," Stark said. He wouldn't credit Stark's perceptiveness with this, Grimmjow felt it had been obvious enough on his face that any lowly creature would have realised it.

"Yeah," he conceded. Why hide it if it was so obvious?

Stark walked further into the room, stopping at the ornate white table. The designs around the edges were those of claws digging into it, which was strange to Grimmjow. Normally such patterns had outward facing claws, and that they were not only in the corners but around the entire face of the table was unsettling somehow.

"She could never forget you, though she tried," Stark said, running his fingers over the surface slowly, softly. His gaze was low, unseeing. As if touching the object could somehow translate to touching her. His touch seemed so hesitant, as though he were touching it, her, for the first time.

"She was young when you died too," he said, eyes drifting around the room, stopping in places though only briefly. There was nothing specific for his eyes to stop on but Grimmjow knew he wasn't really there anymore. "So young. Young for us. We, you and I, were all she had. And she counted on us to remain all she had. Though she was hesitant of you at first, she grew to care for you all the same." Stark started a slow gait, his fingers still trailing lightly with him across the table. It was a steady gait, but a sad one. Grimmjow knew, even from his small reservoir of memories, that Stark was never so slouched, never held his head down in defeat like this. "She tried to put you out of mind after… Well," he sighed, a small, heart-breaking chuckle choked from his lonely heart. "She tried. But you were a part of her. And she could not escape it." His fingers came to graze over the claws on the tables. "She was never so angry before you. She would be angry of course, but her temper was so much more ferocious after…" He made a frustrated sound. "Well," he continued after a few seconds. "I could see it, I could see you. I don't know if she could. We didn't speak of it. We… We couldn't."

Stark stopped walking at the end of the table and laid his palm out flat, having his hand on the flat surface and on the clawed edge. "It was wrong of me to think of her as both of you, and I did," he admitted, head falling further down, chin nearly on his chest. "I did not handle your passing as well as I should have. I didn't handle it at all, really," he continued, turning back to look at him, hand still firmly planted on the table. "I wanted you to stay with me, and so I pretended you were both there, you were both her, and I knew I was doing it, and I didn't care." His other hand balled into a fist at his side. "Because you were both with me that way. Because you couldn't _die_ if you were in her."

He spit the word 'die' so ferociously, so unlike the rest of his soft and tired speech that Grimmjow felt his heartbeat pick up momentarily.

"And now…" he said, looking at him and Grimmjow saw the greyed face of a man, a man who had seen too much and endured so much more. The face of a very old man who could only get by on the smallest, most inconsequential thing to others. Like a tiny, little, broken piece of a soul of a boy who he had one thought of as a son, or a brother, or a lover, or something encompassing them all or entirely different. "Now Lilynette is gone. And I cannot fool myself into believing that somehow she is still with me as with Hallibel. Hallibel was her, but she was you. Hallibel was never truly alive. Hallibel was a placeholder for two souls who I lost that day. Lilynette could never be the same, and you were beyond my reach. But Hallibel wasn't.

"I… I encouraged the parts of Hallibel that were like you. I fueled her wrath. I fueled her passion. They were both so entirely heightened after…" He grinded his teeth and his fist came down onto the table with his open palm. "Well," he said again, trying to keep calm. "I kept her from becoming Lilynette again. I made her into Hallibel, into a mix of both of you, so I could keep you alive. I could still have you both. I would not lose you!" His head darted up quickly and his eyes burned with a passion that Pantera delighted in seeing, as it was Stark again. "I will not lose you! I have lost Lilynette. And I can never have her back. And I must face this now. But I will not lose you too! I will not lose you again!"

Grimmjow said nothing. He looked off across the room, towards a large window where light streamed in. It gave the room an almost ethereal glow of white.

_He's insane,_ Grimmjow realised. _Maybe not descended, but truly _insane.

He had likely been insane from the moment Pantera had died. Hallibel could never have been insane, as she was not alive in that sense. She was Stark's Frankenstein monster, a being created from others. Even worse, he had willingly sacrificed the entirety of Lilynette to forge her with Pantera's soul. He had killed her, and created an entity to fit his twisted needs in her place.

_How cruel,_ Grimmjow thought darkly. _Perhaps the cruelest thing I've ever heard of a demon doing. Certainly the most twisted._

Stark was coming apart at the seams. Hallibel was dead, and so he had lost Lilynette entirely. Clearly he wasn't handling it well. And be damned if Grimmjow would play into Stark's fucked up fantasy that Pantera had returned to him to ease his pain! Grimmjow would not be a part of this! Stark would only get worse and worse if he wasn't set straight.

A tiny part of Grimmjow's brain rebelled at the notion of trying to affirm himself as Grimmjow in front of Stark, because he was only alive by virtue of Stark's attachment to Pantera.

_Ah, but that's not true,_ he realised. He was here as a conduit through which they would get back and retain Ulquiorra, albeit in a more posh setting than had been expected which was probably the only advantage Pantera had granted him. Pantera's feelings must be clouding his judgement and would continue to do so if he did not establish himself a bit.

It may also be a mercy to Stark. Perhaps he could finally begin to put his mind at rest over the deaths of Lilynette and Pantera.

"I am not Pantera," he said finally, looking back at Stark. "I'm not. You can't just make me into something like you did her," he assured in a strong voice, stronger than he felt. "I am not broken, I am not weak, and I am not Pantera! I am Grimmjow Jeagerjaques! I am the son of Hyorinmaru and Rangiku Matsumoto! I am the adopted son of Shihoin Yoruichi and Kisuke Urahara! I am friend to few but for my travels with Ichigo Kurosaki and Rukia Kuchiki and Orihime Inoue and few precious others! I am stand-in brother for Neliel tu Oderschwank! I am lover of Ulquiorra Shiffler! I am a seer and a man and completely human! I am NOT Pantera!"

Grimmjow's teeth were bared and he leaned forward in a fighting-like stance, an aggressive one at least. His fists were clenched and one out before him, as though he could grasp his very essence.

"Who are you trying to convince?" Stark snapped, angered by his refusal to bend to his whims. So few stood tall in his presence and against his words.

"Who are _you _to criticize _me?_" he snapped. Stark likely didn't miss that he had dodged the question but seemed too riled at his statement to take him up on it.

"_What?_" he hissed.

"You twisted a little girl who you claimed you loved like a daughter into a halfway point between herself and Pantera! Her brain was probably such a mess I don't know how she could have functioned! I'll tell you I am relieved though. At least I didn't kill her. She was dead long before I ever met her so at least the guilt of her death doesn't rest on my head!"

Grimmjow didn't really see how he ended up pinned to the wall by Stark's hand jamming into his head and dangling from it with his feet off the ground, but he certainly felt the thudding pain when the back of his skull made impact it and the way the wall dented in around his head, leaving small cracks in the drywall beside him.

"You have no right to question me! You have no idea what it is like! I was losing one of the only creatures in the world who meant anything to me! Do you know what it's like? To wander the world alone for eons, uncountable, and then find something to actually connect to? And I found two! Perhaps I was selfish, but I have nothing else. You could never understand you pathetic _mortal!_ Humans never can."

Two pictures popped into Grimmjow's head instantly. He didn't understand? That's what Stark thought? But he did.

"I do know," Grimmjow said, his voice weary as Stark's. The tiredness, the age in his voice must have struck something is Stark because he slowly lowered him to the ground, hand still clenched around his neck. "This is why I'm not Pantera," he said, sighing. "Because I had parents. Because we were close and I loved them." He met Stark's eyes. "They died, years ago, so don't tell me I don't know about loss. I do, more than you. I had no way of keeping them with me.

"Life goes on. It isn't easy, believe me. It takes time and effort to get over it and it can be a long and painful process but it will end, eventually."

Stark dropped his hand from his neck, eyes bleak. "Then how did you overcome it?"

The edges of Grimmjow's mouth tilted up into a smile, if only just barely. "I guess I had some good people to help me out."

Grimmjow touched the side of his now very sore neck and winced a bit. He suspected it would bruise. Stark scratched the back of his head, shuffling his feel a bit. "Guess I got a bit carried away," he admitted, shrugging.

Grimmjow shrugged back. "I was the same way." He eyed Stark with a hint of a teasing air. "When I was ten."

Stark narrowed his eyes at him and lifted an eyebrow. "Cute." Despite the seemingly menacing tone and the heavy atmosphere still encompassing them, Grimmjow could tell the worst was over.

Grimmjow brushed off his new outfit dramatically.

"If you're expecting an apology," Stark said, one side of his mouth cocking upward. "Then you are sorely mistaken."

"Demons don't apologize," Grimmjow said, rolling his eyes.

"Well," he shrugged. "Not to seers. But as I recall, seers aren't too find of apologizing to us either."

"Hard to talk when your vocal cords are being ripped out," Grimmjow countered.

Stark blinked once and lifted an eyebrow. "Touche."

Grimmjow let out a sigh of frustration and gave Stark an incredulous look. "I don't really understand most of this," he admitted. "I know it's fucked up. It's all so fucked up, and we're the worst."

The corner of Stark's mouth twitched and he walked over to Grimmjow almost as though he were weighted with something, hair hanging on front of his face and piercing eyes shining through, shoulders slightly hunched beneath the large grey coat. After so many mood swings and changes of pace throughout the past few minutes (could it have only been minutes? Had it been longer?) he tried to prepare himself for anything. Stark looked him in the eye, face unreadable.

"Well they always say the hardest part is to admit it. Hopefully, then, this will get easier," he walked past him, knocking his shoulder to Grimmjow's too hard to be completely friendly but too soft to be aggressively. A testament to the confusing relationship they shared, likely. "But I doubt it."

**XXX**

Nel traced the rim of her cup absently with her finger. How strange to return back to this place after so long and so little time.

"And nothing has changed," she murmured to herself. "Nothing ever will."

"I wouldn't say that," came the ever trilling voice resounding in her ear. "Hallibel wasn't dead last you were here,"

Perhaps what frustrated Nel the most on her return trip to the Espada mansion was the realization that, despite seeing and coming back into contact with Nnoitra, her hallucination had not gone away. It was frustrating to not know which of the two Nnoitras before her was the real one and which was her mind's personification of her impending Descension. The only way she had found of differentiating was that hallucination Nnoitra responded directly to her thoughts while real Nnoitra did not. She was a bit agitated that she even needed such ridiculous categories.

As such, she had little idea which had said it, but regardless she chose not to dignify it with an answer.

Ah, but there was one way to know.

"Perhaps some has changed. Last I checked, you had two eyes," she said with undisguised satisfaction ringing in her voice. The hallucination seemed not to care for her snapping outbursts, the patch fading in and out of view. The hallucination was a personification of her descension of course, and she associated it with Nnoitra of old and new. Therefore, the hallucination only had the eye patch some of the time, often flickering even when it was present to accommodate both views. It had been easier before to see it flickering, though and the waxing in and out of reality was becoming less frequent. _I wonder if this means I am falling further into descension._ That or she was beginning to see the new Nnoitra as her poster boy for her descension. It certainly didn't help in telling them apart. Clearly, she needed some source of grounding. In this place, she normally would put no faith in finding one. But Grimmjow was here, somewhere, and he had staved off her insanity before. It gave her hope and strength enough to continue to defy her mate, no matter how her instincts churned against it. _My nature is not for my benefit any longer, and so I will overcome it. _She had always been accused of being bull headed stubborn, or ram headed if you wanted to get all quippy.

The actual Nnoitra was enraged instantly. His tainted pride flared when faced with such an embarrassing defeat at the hands of the woman he thought he had overcome and controlled completely.

"You will be silent!" he hissed through clenched teeth as he came to hover over her. "Or you shall suffer the consequences." He raised his hand to backhand her down roughly.

Nel's hand shot out, imperceptible to the naked human eye and nearly so for the demon's, and caught Nnoitra's wrist in a confident and near unbreakable grip. Her narrowed grey eyes pierced into the fuming black one, made smaller by his rage. Her prominent frown deepened slightly before the side of her mouth quirked up in a defiant smirk as she squeezed the wrist hard enough to constrict the bone beneath uncomfortably. "You should remember which of the two of us is stronger," she purred in a gravelly and dark voice. "I am not so weak anymore that I will not fight against you." With that, she flung him over her head and he flew through the air, crashing with a sickening crack into the opposite wall, picture frames and various pieces of precariously placed décor falling haphazardly around him.

Nel swirled her cup around, watching the dark red liquid stain the sides briefly. She pursed her lips in distaste, no longer desiring such a drink. What person had this been taken from? Someone like Kisuke? Like Grimmjow?

She glanced over to see Nnoitra's jaw nearly hanging off the right side of his face. It looked somehow odder than even a normal demon would have due to his elongated face and chin. He had already seemed unnatural, and even more so now. A broken shell of a man. No, not a man, she supposed. Some would say something more, but she knew better. She knew how far less he was.

"You should fix that," she hinted at him, running her thumb under her own chin.

Nnoitra's unnaturally long tongue lolled out. "Why? Does it scare you?"

Nel contained the revulsion spiking through her body and threatening to foam from her mouth. Despicable. Even by demon standards. What demon purposely let itself be in less than peak physical condition? Even descended demons had so much sense.

"You do not scare me," she said haughtily. "Only things that could actually pose a threat scare me."

"Don't I pose a threat?"

Nel looked back over at him, eyes narrowed. The way he had said it, so knowing, as if he was in on some secret. And besides that, the words had come out slightly garbled. Not surprising for someone whose mouth was in such poor condition. Then again, anything that kept him from talking was an improvement.

"No," she said, turning away again. She pushed the cup away from her and ignored him.

"I see," came the amused and still accented words. "How about-" a sickening pop was heard along with a grating sound of some sort of hard object rubbing against a similar one in an unnatural fashion. "Now?"

Nel turned to see Nnoitra had popped his left arm out of place, so far out that it was beyond dislocated. It hung limply by the tendons, swaying in a non-existent breeze. The arm was turned out the wrong way, fingers twitching manically as though grasping for something that would help it go back into place. Nnoitra looked unfazed though, his tilted smile even grander.

She had not noticed that she had cringed in on herself and quickly righted her body position, assuming a firm and uncaring stance.

"Even less so," she replied and simultaneously congratulated herself for not letting her voice shake and berating herself for the need to.

"How stupid of you," he chided. "Now?" He broke all of his right hand fingers in a crushing grip. "Or now?' He twisted his left knee backwards. With each new self-inflicted injury, he took a staggered step towards her, body jolting unnaturally. Nel stood abruptly, matching him step for step in the opposite direction, hands reaching behind her so as to find any objects that would impede her blind journey away from her demented mate.

"Now?" He plunged his hand, not the broken one, into his good eye socket and, with a sickening squelching sound, crushed the eye still lodged half in his head. Blood gushed from the orifice and dripped into his slack jaw, filling the awkward bowl it had taken refuge in and spilling out, a few drops flying out with every step and word. "Maybe…" he said, well said might be stretching it. He wretched, would be a better description, staggering and bloody and broken but consistently smiling and consistently deranged. "Now." He took both of his hands and grasped either side of his head and, with a burst of physical strength, spun the skull right off of the neck joint. The bone-scraping sound was deafening and Nel covered her ears with wide eyes, unable to look away. She was looking at the back of her mates head now, but he was joltingly turning.

"Noooooow?" the drawled sentence came from the slowly turning bag of disfigured bones.

"STOP!" she screamed at the top of her lungs and continued screaming nonsense and gibberish and began convulsing until her whole body hurt.

"Nel!"

Nel's hands froze in claw-like positions, only slightly jutted out from her bent arms at having let go of her now very frazzled hair. Her body was slumped forward in a standing fetal-like position. Her eyes were wide and staring straight ahead from her ashen face with her mouth hanging agape, until they flashed to the side and stared at the door.

"Grimmjow?" she asked very quietly.

"Nel…" he trailed off, hands outstretched in a placating position, or perhaps defensive. She couldn't tell. "What's wrong?"

Nel blinked exaggeratedly and looked between her mate and her… um… Grimmjow. Sure.

But what did he mean?

"He-he-Nnoitra! There look right there don't you see I see what are you doing here whatamIdoinghere Idon'tunderstand can'ttellwhat'sreal-"

"Stop!" And Nel felt strong arms encircling her and her face was pulled into the crook of a strong, corded neck, bronze skin expanding before her vision. Though her eyes were still wide she no longer saw Nnoitra. Only Grimmjow.

She looked back at the mutilated standing, laughing corpse _not really alive_ before her, cackling at her _but not really because he's not really here_ and tilting his head from side to side, jaw following slightly after each tilt _but that's not right because he's not here, _he's everywhere _no, he's not _but there are so many _but only real one_ but it doesn't matter _because it will still affect me_ or maybe Grimmjow _can save me? _

Grimmjow was stroking her hair comfortingly. "It's okay. I'm here. Don't worry."

Nel rose on her tip-toes to look over her shoulder at the disfigured Nnoitra. This was the fake apparently, but there was another standing over in the corner-

Ah. No there was not. Another figment, she presumed.

Nel wondered if he had ever actually been there.

"Listen to me," Grimmjow's deep, comforting baritone husked into her ear. "You have to make it through this. You're stronger than this, than him," he cajoled, stroking her back and hair in an attempt to soothe her. And soothe her he did. She began to relax and clung to Grimmjow's jacket tightly with claw-like hands digging into the material and nearly ripping it.

Then she suddenly realised why his body-heat was so intense against her bared stomach.

"What are you wearing?" she asked in a shaky, but not so manic voice. Even this conveyed her bafflement at the outfit presented to her.

Grimmjow seemed a bit put out by the comment. "Well it's not like I had a fucking choice in it! You think I'd wear this if I didn't have to? No! They took my other clothes too. What happened to the ones I was wearing when I came here? I don't care if I need to wash them because this fucking jacket is too small and the fucking pants are too big and it's all white! I swear to God if I see one more piece of white decorative fruit someone's going to fucking die! I've been here for like a day and I'm so done with this fucking place already! And fuck I-"

Nel could contain herself no longer and burst out into a flurry of laughter, giggles abounding and echoing off the walls and therein filling the lacklustre room with an ambivalent and charming tune. Grimmjow huffed at her but Nel could tell he was somewhat pleased. And so was she. No longer in her funk, she could see objectively how absurd she had been acting. Grimmjow was her anchor to the real world, she could recognize that much. She only hoped he would continue to anchor her and not fly off the deep end himself. He had as much reason as her to do so if the abundant rumors about his and Stark's relationship were even in part true. She wondered if even the rumor mill, and one so full of malicious and cruel demons who so enjoyed tearing anything to shreds even if it was only a reputation, could be so outlandish if not for some truth.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him softly.

Grimmjow glowered at her in a dry, dead-pan way before shrugging it off. He clearly wasn't that upset.

Nel bit her lip slightly, shuffling a bit. "This'll probably only be a temporary fix," she murmured knowingly.

Grimmjow nodded grimly. "It will be as long as we're here," he stated flatly. "But one way or another, we'll be leaving this place soon."

Nel was surprised by this. "How do you know?"

Grimmjow gave her a grim, sidelong smile. "If I know Ulquiorra, he'll come in guns blazing. Quietly and efficiently, but pissed all the same. I suppose Kisuke will be the one who comes guns ablaze," he sighed in a very tired and resigned voice. "Loud and hard and taking no prisoners. Probably all while grinning and waving that fan."

"You don't think they'll try to, I dunno," she said, scratching her head lightly. "Negotiate or anything?"

Grimmjow frowned and she could detect a hint of sobriety, of sadness within his blank expression. "Kisuke's never been one to negotiate with demons. He knows I'd rather go down fighting than cowering at their feet." He spit the words fiercely, with a passion she sensed had ben instilled in him from long before. "And Ulquiorra's a possessive little fucker," he said with unabashed pride. "He won't go down without a fight. I guess the only question left," he trailed off, glancing at her again before continued. "Is if you're in or out of this one."

Despite the sparse chances she knew would be presented to her should Grimmjow, Ulquiorra, Kisuke and her should they fight they Espada, and knowing that it would test them all in body and mind (Nel specific to this) and their strength of will and with certainty knowing that not all of them would make it, she really didn't have to think about it too hard.

"Until the end," she said definitively. "No matter how soon it may be."

**XXX**

Ulquiorra stared out the window with a defined glare that seemed cemented into his face. It would only take a few hours for the plane to arrive. He didn't think they would all survive this. In fact, he knew they wouldn't. But it didn't matter. He would try.

_I'm coming, Grimmjow._

**XXX**

**AN: **Here we go! Chapter 19! And man did it take a while.

So, the reason it takes me so long to do these is because I just wouldn't want to rush a chapter without inspiration. I want you guys to be happy with these chapters, so I really hope I can live up to all of your expectations.

Originally, the whole first art was going to be in Urahara's point of view, but I changed it to Ulquiorra because it seemed to be more his time to shine.

Grimmjow and Stark are damn near impossible to write because they don't even really understand it. So I have to write a relationship I don't understand from the views of characters who also don't understand. Sheesh, confusing. And we get more of a view of Hallibel's life. The reason she could get so angry or why she was such a kinky little thing was because of Pantera's influence, which Stark helped along. Naughty naughty Stark!

The final confrontation is coming! Get ready! Read, review, etc. And thank you so much for all of your support!


	20. End of the Line

**Chapter 20**

"It worked," Ulquiorra said, a bit surprised. Urahara stood before him on a plain in Germany, close to the Espada mansion, though not so close as to be found out. Well, yet. Ulquiorra hated the sense of familiarity that blew through him, though it was anything but comforting. Still, Grimmjow was close. He could at the very least sense it and take comfort in that.

Ah, no. He supposed he couldn't.

The air around Urahara reeked of demonic essence. It whipped around him carelessly, or seemingly so. It was a reiatsu to be sure, a dark and heavy one like most demons possessed. It was carefully tailored to appear on a sub-par level to the general average power of demons. Only just, though. Urahara had taken every precaution to make it seem as though he was a nothing, forgotten as quickly as he was registered in the mind.

"You should know better than to doubt me!" Urahara said in hysterical insult.

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes but said no more. He was on edge now. So close to his Grimmjow. So soon he would see him. But then, for how long? There was no guarantee of anyone coming out of this alive.

He quickly assessed the possible casualties he would be faced with in the near future.

Any number of the Espada. Well he could very well not care less about them. Szayel and Nnoitra posed no threat to him at all. If he were to end up fighting either of them, he would come out victorious. Stark, however, was a problem in and of himself. Ideally they could escape without him noticing or illicit an apathy in him towards their flight from the mansion. More than likely he was only keeping Grimmjow there based on a pre-existing plan of Hallibel's, and she was of no consequence any longer. Perhaps Stark had moved on in his grieving to the point he would let them go sans trouble.

But he doubted it. More than likely, whoever was to face Stark would die. Best to keep Grimmjow away from him then.

Neliel fell into the Espada category as well; ex-Espada though. Her demise would be unfortunate, perhaps, but not earth-shattering. Not for him anyways. Grimmjow would likely not be so pleased if she died though. He would try, then, to assist her. However he would not place his or Grimmjow's life below hers. Should push come to shove, Neliel would die before either.

Urahara then. Urahara was a top priority to be sure. As Grimmjow's only acceptable parental figure available, two dead and one incompetent, he could not very well leave him to suffer the wrath of a long and torturous death at the hands of his former colleagues. The problem with protecting him, though, stemmed from a lack of knowledge on Ulquiorra's part. He did not know Urahara's fighting style, skills, mechanics or capacity. He could be walking in fully prepared or putting the first foot in his grave and Ulquiorra did not know which. Even upon multiple attempts to pull information out of Urahara, he was rewarded with little productive explanation. Urahara was hesitant at best to reveal his abilities, though he had mentioned he could 'handle himself just fine,' though in a far more flamboyant and less eloquent way. If he was telling the truth, then Ulquiorra would not worry for his safety. If he was lying, then Ulquiorra would never know. Urahara likely did not know how his particular set of skills, whatever they were, would match up to the Espada's. He only wished to see Grimmjow freed. A noble venture, if not somewhat frustrating for Ulquiorra who wished to see him come out alive.

Best not think about that then. What would be, in regards to the unhinged seer-sensor, what have you- would be. He could only hope that, left to his own devices, he was as powerful as he seemed to be.

And Grimmjow. His beloved Grimmjow. He would be out of this place under any circumstances. Ulquiora's own life would be forfeit before Grimmjow died in that god-forsaken (most literally) hell hole (most definitely).

Perhaps he should attempt some effort into saving his own gangly hide as well.

"Yes I suppose I should," he commented distractedly. Ulquiorra was surprisingly bereft of hair across the majority of his body; save for his head, a bit up his tail extending into his spinal region and a small treasure trail of sorts that Grimmjow could amuse himself with for hours. Therefore, due to his lack of bodily hair, he was unfamiliar with the feeling of the popular human phrase of one's hair standing up on the back of one's neck. However, should he ever entertain the notion of that experience, he imagined it would feel something like this.

Ulquiorra had never thought he would return to this place, excluding the unlikely scenario in which he gained an infinite amount of power and returned to do in the remainder of the Espada to be free of them completely. And yet here he stood, possibly weakened by his elongated stay on primarily holy ground and severely out of practice in all things fighting or even demon related. He was not returning on favorable terms and he could only hope it would not hinder Grimmjow's escape.

But such was life.

"Ha! You're nervous. That's sorta funny, you know?" Urahara grinned cheekily. Ulquiorra gave him a flat, aggravated look.

"Such attitude will incur the Espada's wrath. Best remember your place when we get there," he growled.

Urahara hummed softly to himself for a moment, eyes growing distant as he peered over the tops of the trees towards the imposing visible spires of the Esapada mansion.

"I think…" he began, voice calm yet somehow imposing and foreboding, which of course had Ulquiorra on edge immediately. "This will probably be the last time we meet."

Ulquiorra started, teeth clenched behind a tight jaw. Urahara seemed contemplative.

"Just a feeling," he answered his unspoken question, the one hanging in the air around him, or so Ulquiorra assumed. How far did Urahara's sensing powers extend? He had thought it only demon reiatsu but maybe… "I hope I'm wrong, but I don't think so. This life is hard, though, so maybe it's not so bad." Urahara glanced at him, his eyes holding a strange foggy mysticism, a great power untouched and preferably staying as such. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I do not intend to give up my life so easily," he replied, much more confidently than he felt. "Why do you?"

"I never said that," he murmured darkly, shadows falling over his eyes. "Perhaps we'll meet again in hell one day, but until then, live on Ulquiorra. Live to die another day, another way, another life."

Such strange sentiments. "It sounds like something humans mark their graves with, such unsettling words. A sign of a turbulent and tumultuous end."

"Or what is etched in the dirt with broken, bloody fingernails of a loved one when the body is never found."

Ulquiorra blinked and turned away from him. "Ah, so much for levity then."

"Have I rubbed off on you? Oh I feel so special now!"

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes but chose not to comment. They couldn't put it off any longer, he supposed. "How long?"

"Hmm? Ah, yes. Well, you said Szayel will have something to amplify reiatsu in his room, correct? To send out mass orders via reiatsu to the lower level demon personnel. You know it must be nice to have a slave army at your beck and call," he said, tapping his chin in thought.

"It is," Ulquiorra said flatly. "It was, though I prefer my life now."

"Barreling down the Espada mansion in a rescue mission?"

"There's that levity."

"In any case," he continued, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll just make some modifications and project my own reiatsu through it, pinpointing it a few miles from here. The slave army will go to fight, or most of them I guess, and boom! The mansion is cleared."

Ulquiorra was unimpressed with the plan. There were flaws, glaring holes in it the size of the ones in his own lacklustre personality. There was no guarantee Urahara would be able to figure out the contraption or even configure it before anyone caught on to what they were doing. Not all of the demons would leave the mansion and certainly none of the Espada. The Espada would be on high alert if a supposed seer army was coming after them, so it would be more difficult to escape their notice. It may also be suspicious, this faux army coming in right after Ulquiorra returns with an unidentified 'demon.' They would have to fight their way out and God help them in that. They had no sense of how long it would take for the plan to begin or carry out and once it was underway, they would be on their own as Ulquiorra and Grimmjow spending too much time with Nel or Urahara would send up a red flag. They'd probably all die.

Love was such an amazing pain in his ass.

"How long will it take, then?" he asked.

"Hmm, provided I find the room easily enough and break in, and provided that Szayel is not in there which would delay me further, an hour, two maybe."

Ulquiorra's gaze dropped and his thoughts drifted. So short a time. So quick it could all be over. Was this the span of his life, then? Grimmjow's? Just a few hours? No, less.

"I see."

Urahara gave him a sorrowful gaze, hinting that, beneath all of the humor and farce, there was genuine concern and fear within him. "Well, are you ready?"

"It does not matter," Ulquiorra said flatly. "Let's go."

**XXX**

Stark drummed his fingers across the chair he resided in currently. It was high backed, the seat plush and comfortable, and clearly old and antique, though only more grandiose for it. It was not really a throne, he didn't have one of those and never thought it necessary. After all, Stark didn't need a throne to assert his authority or incur fear in lesser beings; that is to say all other beings. It was just simply a chair that was set up in one of the many drawing rooms; his own to be exact. He entertained (see: intimidated) guests in this room or held impromptu meetings with one or two of his fellow Espada. It was less formal than the norm, the norm being a meeting room or some such other. He likely should have conducted his current business in a more formal setting, but he was always of the mindset that comfort was no hindrance to fear. It even escalated it.

A lesser demon offered him a cup holding a thick red substance within. Its practiced hand did not shake as to accommodate the mighty numero Espada and not spill the drink all over him, and yet the rest of it seemed to tremble. As if it had trained itself to only keep its' hand steady. Ah, but such was the expectation around its superiors, the most superior of all even more so.

Stark tilted his head slightly towards the two uncommon entities within the room. The demon bowed its head deeply before scuttling, like a bug really, over to them and holding up the sterling silver tray to them, two cups still in place. It was exquisite china, opaque and hand painted centuries ago. Only the best for them.

To his right, Neliel sat poised on the loveseat cushion nearest to him, back straight and eyes downcast towards her own cup. She had her legs daintily crossed and a frown marring her otherwise pretty face. However, her eyes were not dull and lifeless as he had become accustomed to seeing her before her departure. They were sharp, keen. It gave Stark a sense that something more was afoot here than he had previously thought.

Beside her was Nnoitra, draped over his half of the loveseat in a bored fashion. His legs were spread out before him, his two top-most arms thrown over the back if the couch while he picked his teeth with a third, the other three alternating between scratching at whatever he felt like, draping themselves on the material before them, or stroking Neliel in some way or other, a touch to which she had no reaction. On the surface, at least. He had thrown his own cup at a wall some time ago after downing the beverage and bitching about the "prissy fucking dainty little shit" not belonging in "man's" hand. How undignified. But, Stark supposed, it wasn't like any of them expected any form of decency from him anyways.

To his left sat Szayel on a less impressive chair than his own, leaning on his hand poised on the arm of it while swirling his own cup unassumingly. He had a slight smirk to his lips, but then that was normal. Every now and then he'd begin to tap his foot to convey his boredom but a sharp look from Stark always stopped it. He'd learned his lesson. And Stark had been even more temperamental as of late.

And somehow he doubted that would change with the advent of this new issue. Ulquiorra sat straight faced on the loveseat across from him, only taking up one half of it himself. Despite this, his _confidante _as it were stood by his side, cheery smile combatting the mood as he stood prim and proper with his hands behind his back, large bucket hat covering his eyes. Apparently Ulquiorra had met this odd demon specimen along his travels and it had recognized him as an Espada almost immediately, offering to come along on Ulquiorra's quest for God knows what to escape mundane boredom. He'd heard of weirder reasons.

It still sounded a bit suspicious.

Nevertheless, the lesser demon could hardly pose a threat to their wait staff, let alone the Espada. Ulquiorra likely brought him along to remain in a position of power in relation to another. Power was something demons were miserable to let go of. How interesting that he'd found a way to circumvent it even while leaving his esteemed position of power.

He glanced at the clock, sighing when he noticed ten minutes had gone by and nothing had been said. That new demon was starting to creep him out with that overly cheerful smile. Was he oblivious to the mood or uncaring of it? Likely the latter.

"Ulquiorra," Stark started, crossing one leg perpendicular over the other, resting it on his knee, and leaned on his fist over the arm of his chair, head tilting sideways a bit. "Welcome back. What brings you around these parts?"

Ulquiorra's blank stare turned piercing and infuriated then. Ah, he remembered how much fun it used to be to tease weaker demons. He wished he could enjoy it as much as he used to.

"Where is he?"

Hmm, much angrier than he'd thought. "Ulquiorra you wound me. No greeting? How unlike you to forget your manners." Despite the airy, playful note to his voice, his expression was stony and cold, overly threatening. Ulquiorra had best learn his place around his new, easily-snapping leader.

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"

A bang erupted throughout the room. Stark's gun smoked slightly in his hand. The other Espada members looked at it warily, having not even seen it being drawn. Ulquiorra was stony faced as ever though, unfazed by the bullet that had passed by his head close enough to blow through his hair.

"Pardon?" Stark asked, position not having changed since the beginning of the meeting. How casual he always was laying out punishments and rules. He did miss Hallibel's enforcing voice coming after it though.

Ulquiorra did not falter though. His eyes remained locked with Stark's and his visage was unmovable.

"I said," he stated in that flat, icy tone. "Where is he?"

Another bang resounded in the room. A scratch ran the width of Ulquiorra's left cheek, dark blood beginning to drip from it. Ulquiorra made no move to either having felt it or to wipe the dripping blood from his ashen face. He did not even blink, regardless of how much it had hurt. Stark's gun shots were known for excessive pain.

Stark wordlessly got up from his chair and, hand still holding the gun in his right hand. The loud one. Lilynette. His other hand was hanging limply by his side, though it occasionally brushed the silent gun still on his hip. His left-handed gun. The silent one.

Pantera.

He wondered if he'd have to rename his guns, now that both names brought up too much pain to deal with.

In any case, Stark walked at a leisure pace over to Ulquiorra before stopping in front of him. Ulquiorra's eyes had not followed him. They remained glaring, or rather blankly staring, at the chair before him even without Stark in it. Stark regarded him, looking the pallid, wiry demon up and down a few times. He looked worse for wear, certainly. Too long spent on holy ground, most likely. No matter his healing ability, it had likely affected him anyways. Such was the curse of holy ground, or rather, the blessing. None could escape it, no matter the strength of the demon. His skin was even more ash-like than before he had left. He had always seemed white and devoid of color, not unlike their own living environment. But now, his skin truly resembled ash, as though it had at once been aflame and had since burned out, leaving behind flecks of white, weak covering over a crumbling whole. If he touched him, Stark wondered, would he dissolve into ashes and fly away.

_Ashes to ashes,_ he thought before he jammed the head of the gun against the side of Ulquiorra's forehead, cocking it with a resounding click that seemed even more substantive in the quiet room.

Finally, Ulquiorra's eyes met his, dead and, dare he say it, bored.

"Where is Hallibel?" he asked instead.

Stark ground his teeth together and jammed the gun hard against Ulquiorra's head, jarring him to the side a bit. _ He doesn't know,_ he repeated to himself a few times. _Though, by the look on his face, he probably assumes._

"Dead," he said flatly, darkly, underlying miserably.

Ulquiorra's lips nearly quirked into a smirk; Stark could see the near unmovable facial muscles twitch just a bit. But he reigned it in. "If you did not know that, and our positions were reversed, you would ask the same."

Stark gritted his teeth and turned his head away, snarling lowly. How presumptuous. Unfortunately true, though. The gun fell limp in his hand and he holstered it with a quick twirl; a habit he'd picked up when Pantera had been around to indulge his cowboy fantasy. Stark liked thinking he was a cowboy and he blamed Pantera for it. As well as all the little quirks he'd garnered thereafter not limited to his apparel choices and outlaw-esque mannerisms.

"He's fine. Been given his own wing. Well fed, well looked after. Not even in need of company, really. The personnel have been warned not to do anything to him."

Ulquiorra blinked, eyes going owlish in size. Clearly he had not expected a comparatively kingly treatment for a seer. Stark rolled his eyes.

"You thought I'd chain him up in a dungeon or something? Aren't we all passed that now?"

Ulquiorra's look turned incredulous, as well as disbelieving.

"Just trust me on this, he's fine."

Ulquiorra scowled slightly but accepted it nonetheless. Even the demon, _What was its' name, _beside Ulquiorra seemed a bit perturbed that Stark would treat a seer so lavishly.

_Yes, well, fuck 'em._ Stark had no intention of explaining such a confusing relationship and history to those he cared nothing about. If Grimmjow wanted to tell him, more power to him. He would need all the power in the world to explain any of this situation as Stark himself could barely comprehend it.

Stark walked back over to his throne of sorts and sat down, cradling his head in his hand in what he hoped was a bored gesture. Likely, though, it came off as more tired than anything else.

"Alright, well, I guess to business then," Stark said, scratching his head lightly. "You will have free reign of the mansion as always, though you will be restricted to inside unless I am with you, being the only one strong enough to subdue you. Same goes for Grimmjow, so feel free to spend time with him. On the off chance you do go for something off the estate, Grimmjow will be kept here as liability and your actions will be monitored. As punishment for your disappearance, however, your time with Grimmjow will be restricted initially to three hours daily. Do with it what you will. Good conduct or periods of time where you continue to follow orders and rules will result in longer time spent with him. As demons live longer than humans, the punishment will continue for an estimated time of five years, pending any breaking of orders or rules at which time it will be extended. As you will only have the initial three hours, you are also to be under an amount of 'room arrest,' shall we say. Twelve hours daily will be spent in your room without company or servants. Get what you need before that." Stark's speech had been clipped and precise. You would think Hallibel was hassling him or something. "These terms are not up for negotiation and, given the severity of your crime, desertion, are every light. I am within my rights to kill your mate and torture you for centuries." Stark's eyes narrowed darkly. "Or worse."

Implications there, Ulquiorra's jaw became tight. He need not ask. Stark would be lonely without Hallibel after all.

Not that Ulquiorra had to know that Stark would _never _think of doing anything remotely cruel to his former charge. Well except for slamming him against walls via his skull, but Grimmjow totally had that one coming.

"I shall take my leave, then," Ulquiorra stated, rising from his seated position and giving Stark a slight bow of his head in acknowledgement. Stark flicked his wrist in a dismissive gesture.

Ulquiorra walked past him, demon companion in tow, and Stark watched out of the corner of his eye as, beneath the white outfit he'd been forced to don, the material hugged around a strange object. So subtle, and perhaps no one else had noticed. He sighed heavily.

"I'd say I would come get you when your three hours is up, but," he trailed off, voice accepting. "I doubt I'll have to."

Ulquiorra turned his head sharply back to him.

Stark glanced at him again, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly into a condescending smirk. "I'll see you in Hell, Ulquiorra."

**XXX**

Grimmjow popped another grape in his mouth, flicking it up with his thumb so it landed nicely in his upturned mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully, waited a few moments, and then repeated the process.

He was so _bored!_ Stark wasn't even around to entertain him. When he'd asked (maybe snapped at, but who cared really) a small, weak demon scuttling by where he was, he'd been informed that Stark was in a 'very important meeting and is not to be disturbed,' with a petulant 'sir' tacked on at the end of the statement. Oh, how every demon in the mansion loathed his presence, craved his blood. It was sort of amusing. It would have been more amusing if he could actually kill them. He'd then ordered it to get him some grapes- good ones, not those shitty almost-raisins- and let a bit of a subtle warning drop about disobeying or bringing him something poisoned.

Okay so he outright threatened by means of Stark's wrath to get his bidding done and _no _he wasn't proud of it but for fuck sake he wanted grapes and if he was going to be stuck here he might as well make the most of it, pride be damned!

"When did I become such a spoiled brat?" he sighed, getting up. He was bitter, to be sure. Stuck in the Espada mansion and being able to do nothing but rely on Stark's warnings to protect himself aggravated him to no end. He had never felt so powerless; he had never been at such a disadvantage. He almost wanted to go barrelling through the mansion and trying to kill whatever he could with whatever he could. But alas he was too smart to do something so suicidal. So he would endure and survive for as long as he could.

Besides, it wouldn't be long and there would be a standoff of epic proportions. He hoped he'd have his zanpakuto by then.

He pulled back the curtain and looked into a courtyard of sorts, surrounded by walls and large, spired fences. God forbid they actually give him a nice view, just in case he used it to escape. And what was even the point? The window was surrounded by reinforced steel and the window itself was nearly unbreakable, for humans at least.

At least it was a nice day. Maybe he should go enjoy it. He did have free range of the mansion after all, and the courtyard counted. Most of his time was spent outside back at Las Noches, even the colder months found him bundled up and working on something or other outside. He had wondered why people didn't just tear it down; after all it held no significance to the town and was really just a drain what with his paycheck and all. But apparently a seer had been mayor at some point and it was written in some sort of law-book or what not that it was to stay open. Seer burials happened there sometimes, Las Noches being the only known burial sight of seers in the northern half of his dear U.S.A, and so it got some use. Not really happy use, but some. He often wondered why more seers didn't stay around, being that it was (usually, not recently) a reprieve from demon-hunting and so forth. Maybe it was too obvious a hiding spot? Maybe they wanted to stay near family? Maybe he was just a coward.

_And I'm still cowering. Just under a demon's protection this time._ Somehow it was worse. At least Las Noches was made to protect him, as opposed to Stark who was made to kill him; past ties to Pantera notwithstanding.

Deep as he was caught in his cycle of self-loathing and introspective philosophising, he was more than aware of a presence approaching his door. A heavy presence that affected him in a strong, almost ambivalent way.. Grimmjow sometimes longed for Urahara's ability. Wouldn't it be nice to know exactly what you were up against? How much power to exert? Made fight or flight a lot easier, to be sure.

As it stood, though, neither was a viable option anyways. So cower under Stark's reputation was the only option left. Pitiful. Pathetic. And yet he sensed, with the weight of the encroaching presence, that fight or flight would not be needed. He knew because he _knew._ And that was all he needed to figure out who was behind that door.

The door opened roughly, hitting the wall behind it with a resounding bang, and Grimmjow was jarred away from his post at the window.

His breath caught as he watched his lover frozen at the door, eyes wide and hand slightly outstretched towards him.

It's not like Grimmjow thought he'd never see him again; hell he knew he would. He even knew it was him coming. But _damn, _was it good to see him.

Breaking out in a face-breaking grin, Grimmjow bolted over to his stunned mate, wrapping his arms around his far too tiny waist, wings outspread a bit in shock behind him, and spun him around eagerly. Ulquiorra stabilized himself on Grimmjow's shoulders gripping them tightly and, if Grimmjow wasn't mistaken, shaking just a bit. Grimmjow's smile softened and he arched his neck up to finally, _finally,_ kiss Ulquiorra after so long.

Well, not exactly a terribly long time, a week or so at most, but so much had happened that it just felt so much longer.

And the kiss was everything he wanted, needed, it to be and more. Just soft lips meeting each other, chaste at first but building quickly. Like they needed to assure themselves of the other's presence before really diving in.

It turned rough and needy seconds in. Tongues met each other, teeth scraped lips and breath was let out in harsh pants against the other, if they could even escape at all.

Grimmjow crushed Ulquiorra's body into his, still holding his up, and Ulquiorra wound his arms firmly around Grimmjow's shoulders, nearly choking the already breathless man.

A minute or so passed before Grimmjow finally had to wrench his head back and take a deep, lung-expanding breath before letting it out and dropping his head onto Ulquiorra's shoulder. He felt a gentle tug on his leg and looked down to see Ulquiorra's tail wrapped around it once again. He smiled again.

"You're okay," Ulquiorra said breathlessly. Grimmjow put him down to get a better look at him, though maybe more his sore arms' sake. Ulquiorra held his head between his two claws and let them travel down, over his neck and shoulders, down his chest and around his side, tracing over his bared abs and his cut waist, dipping around his hips and up and down his back once before, maybe a bit perversely, squeezing two clawfulls of his ass. Grimmjow was a bit shocked, but this even paled in comparison to Ulquiorra's black claws quickly running around his front and dipping below the waistline of his pants to firmly grab his junk and fondle it teasingly. He pulled back, looking Grimmjow over once more; Grimmjow himself still a little miffed at being left like that. "Stark told me you were okay, not even tortured or in the dungeons, but he was telling the truth," Ulquiorra said, eyes wide. Clearly, then, this was extremely abnormal.

_Story of my fucking li-_

Nope! He was not gonna pity party when he'd just gotten Ulquiorra back.

"And you're okay," Grimmjow said. Ulquiorra lifted an eyebrow at him skeptically. Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "You know, you left for the Middle East with Urahara, met Yoruichi, took out a bunch of demons." Ulquiorra rolled his eyes then.

"As if they were any match for me," he said flatly.

Grimmjow shrugged but smile and pulled Ulquiorra back into his embrace, stroking his back lightly and taking care not to get skewered by his horns, and also avoiding the left side which, he was sure at that point, would never heal.

"I know," he murmured gently. "Didn't stop me from worrying though."

He felt Ulquiorra's lips on his neck with just a bit of teeth. He shivered a bit but let him continue.

"You worry too much. It'll drive you to an early grave."

Grimmjow's mood darkened immediately. His fingers brushed against what was probably Pantera- the sword not his past life- strapped to Ulquiorra's back beneath his white uniform. He had noticed before but hadn't cared. But now…

"Speaking of early graves," he said, his voice gravelly and tired.

Ulquiorra's arms around him tightened and his claws dug gently into his back, beneath his ridiculous jacket to clutch at his shoulder blades for purchase. "We will not speak of that, we have no need. You will not be in need of one," Ulquiorra growled definitively. He frowned slightly. "None of us will."

"How many does us count for?" Grimmjow asked, though, really, he sort of guessed already.

"You, me, Nel and Urahara." Of course.

"He would find a way to barge in here with you."

"He is quite persistent."

Grimmjow tapped the sword beneath Ulquiorra's clothes. "Can't believe you got that in here," Grimmjow mused. "Got an undershirt on to keep it from touching you?"

Ulquiorra backed away from Grimmjow and quickly shucked off the jacket, the material dropping to the ground with some weight. Clearly it was made out of a more sturdy material then Grimmjow's own light and baggy uniform. His chest was bare and Pantera's sheath was wrapped around his so-skinny torso, the actual sheathed blade running the length of his snowy white back. Ulquiorra went to remove it and Grimmjow rushed forward, catching Ulquiorra's wrist and glaring heatedly into his eyes.

"No, don't touch it." Grimmjow spun him around and unstrapped the sheath, where it quickly fell to the ground with a dull clatter. Grimmjow's hands, eyes widened and teeth gritted into a menacing grimace. The length of Ulquiorra's back was blistered and burned, cracks even forming from where the blade had lain. The skin was charred and black, but the cracks themselves glowed a fiery orange-red, almost-no, _actually _glowing with heat. The skin was bubbled in several places and blood was caked everywhere along the back, likely from when he had initially put it on as the heat had likely gotten to the point where it had started evaporating the liquid too quickly to run, albeit for an useable bloodstain beneath the blackened skin.

Grimmjow's voice had escaped him, but he managed a few harsh, forced words. "How long?" he asked, though his voice was actually strained. Why couldn't he feel it? Shouldn't he know if Ulquiorra was in pain? Wasn't that how this mate thing worked? Then again, the wound was from a holy weapon, so did that invalidate it for him as he never would be burned by it? He had no former knowledge to go on for demon-seer mated bonds. But he'd assume that was the case, for now.

"Ever since we left Las Noches," Ulquiorra said neutrally. How could he be so calm? It had to hurt so, so _so _much.

"God _damnit _Ulquiorra," he hissed, bringing his fingers closer to the skin, though not actually touching it. "Why isn't it healing?"

"Give it time," he murmured, glancing back at him. "It will take longer."

"Why didn't you let Urahara carry it?" he snapped, grabbing Ulquiorra's shoulder and spinning him back to face him, relinquishing the rough hold almost immediately as though fearful he would hurt his mate further.

Ulquiorra shuffled a bit, eyes darting around before landing back at Grimmjow's. "Because it is yours, and you were not there. I wanted something that reminded me of you, something tangible to hold onto."

Grimmjow scrubbed his face roughly. "Fuck's sake, Ulquiorra. That's a piss poor reason."

Ulquiorra grasped his hands and moved them away from his face, gently squeezing his wrists and bringing them back to cup his own face. "I know," he said softly. "But I love you. And this was all I had of you. Of course I would hold onto it, no matter the pain. It would hurt worse to be away from it."

Grimmjow let out one vicious bark of miserable laughter before dropping his head onto Ulquiorra's shoulder. "How am I supposed to get mad at you when you say shit like that?" he asked tiredly.

He turned his head on the bony shoulder to look up at Ulquiorra, who had a tenuous smile on his lips. "Let's not be mad at each other right now, okay?" he murmured, stroking Grimmjow's hair thoughtfully.

Grimmjow sighed deeply and nodded, kissing Ulquiorra's bared shoulder tenderly before straightening up. "Right," he said, holding out his hand. Ulquiorra's smile turned completely genuine and heartfelt, perhaps amused and touched at such a silly gesture as to being asked to accept him when he already had in the most deep and intimate of ways, and grasped Grimmjow's hand like a lifeline.

"We don't have long," Ulquiorra warned. Grimmjow felt a dark, chilling shiver run down his back. Ulquiorra blinked up at him, feeling the dread, and frowned a bit. "A poor choice of words," he agreed.

Grimmjow let out a shuddering laugh. "Yeah, but I know." He looked back up and yanked on their connected hands, throwing Ulquiorra's body sprawling into his as they clutched at each other. "Let's make it count then, kay?"

Ulquiorra grasped the back of his neck and yanked him down for a full, open mouthed kiss. "Make it count," he sneered when he pulled away, though it was hampered slightly by his breathless voice and the soft look in his eyes. "As if to say that any moment spent with you is not 'making it count.'" His hold on Grimmjow's shoulders became near painful, and yet not strong enough; he could never be close enough, never pressed against him as fully as they both wanted. As if what they wanted was impossible. _But we fight for it anyways. We'll fight for it to our ends._ "My entire existence is made of moments that meant nothing. I cannot even remember most of them. And yet every moment with you is so vivid, so clear. They replay in my mind when you are not near, as if you are the only thing making my dreck of an existence 'count.' I do not 'count' without you. I do not want to."

Grimmjow almost couldn't take anymore and crushed his lips back against Ulquiorra's. "You're such a sap," he murmured against Ulquiorra's slowly bruising lips.

"I never was before. I suppose it would be your influence." They were so close together that their faces seemed to blur trying to focus on the other from such a close proximity, but they had always tried for the impossible so why stop now? "I am many things I never was before."

"Mmm," Grimmjow murmured, kissing him gently against before sitting on the bed, pulling Ulquiorra against him to straddle him, hands gripped tightly onto Grimmjow's shoulders and starting to slowly grind against him. "And what's your favorite thing you never were before?"

"Loved."

Grimmjow looked up at him with soft, sad eyes. To be alive for so long and to never have been loved; he could barely comprehend. "Yeah," he said, running is hands up and down Ulquiorra's back. "It's nice, huh." He kissed him once, quickly. "You don't have to worry about not being loved again, okay?" He suddenly grinned a bit cheekily. "I like ya, so I think I'll keep ya."

Ulquiorra, for all his stoic and dispassionate appearance, was ever easily and radically moved by any declaration of love by Grimmjow. So even this, this cute little joke of an 'I love you,' had him feeling light and smiling, even laughing a bit at just how absurd, poorly timed and out of place Grimmjow could say something and still, somehow, make it seem right, needed even. Perhaps it was perfectly times, even. Levity in the face of terrible darkness.

"Yes. But you should take me as well," Ulquiorra said, not too subtly grinding against Grimmjow a few times to get the message across. Grimmjow bit back a groan and allowed a smirk to cross his features.

"Yeah, I should," he agreed, kissing him softly. "Missed this," he murmured.

Ulquiorra hummed against his lips and pushed a bit harder against him.

"As have I. Any time spent away from you seems more than I can handle," he purred, pulling away a bit to stare longingly into his eyes. "Lay down," he whispered.

Grimmjow obeyed, laying himself across the bed, pulling Ulquiorra with him. He stopped Ulquiorra before he could kiss him again.

"Is this what you want to do with maybe the last of our time?" he asked solemnly.

Ulquiorra nestled against Grimmjow comfortably, stroking wherever his hands landed. "I feel more real when we are like this," he said quietly. "Having a part of you inside of me, knowing you desire me, knowing you are with me so concretely and garnering equal pleasure, being so connected, it is as though you are imprinting a part of yourself inside of me." He buried his face in Grimmjow's neck, giving the taught skin quick kisses before continuing. "And I have known since we have been together that the only part of my being that is worth anything is the part that is yours. I feel like yours when we are together. It… puts my world into perspective."

Grimmjow rolled them over so he hovered over Ulquiorra. "You're worth everything to me Ulquiorra. I hope you know that."

Ulquiorra just wrapped his spindly arms around his neck and yanked him down for a long, hot kiss. Grimmjow's immediately pushed his tongue into Ulquiorra's mouth, dancing with it in a prelude to their ultimate dance. Panted breaths swept over their faces and were inhaled in their erratic inhales, cementing each other's presence even in their lungs, with the very air they breathed. Their teeth knocked against each other and made a dull almost clink that neither really noticed.

Ulquiorra's claws scraped lightly up and down Grimmjow's back, though the grip was growing harder and he had to restrain himself from just digging in and gripping, holding Grimmjow to him by physical force. His broad shoulders made such good handles, were such a good grasping point that he found his wound arms pulling in the shoulder blades jutting out, even this corded in heavy muscle.

His legs rubbed against Grimmjow's, initially copying his arms movement pattern before he found the grapple he so fervently clung to at which point his left leg came to lock around Grimmjow's waist while his right continued to rub and stroke, growing a bit harder with each turn until it was rutting between Grimmjow's legs in an attempt to bring what little relief he could to his already straining erection encased in the ridiculously baggy pants.

His tail went around Grimmjow's back and yanked on the waistband of his pants, pulling futilely in an attempt to divest him of clothing.

Grimmjow kissed him roughly, needily, just the way they both liked it and, right then, needed it. His hands rubbed Ulquiorra's sides, pushing in to squeeze but not to bruise. He eventually let Ulquiorra's lips go with a ragged breath before attacking his neck with sucking kisses and gentle nips that grew steadily more biting as Ulquiorra kept rubbing against him so wantonly. He eventually just started taking pieces of skin into his mouth and rolled them between his teeth, near gnawing in the presented skin before releasing it and licking it in apology, soothing the darkening skin. Bruises that never lasted, couldn't last if Ulquiorra had wanted them to. And they both knew he did. They both did, truly wanting to leave a visible, blackened mark against Ulquiorra's skin. Even if he never could, Grimmjow would never stop trying. They both just enjoyed it far too much.

He smirked as he grabbed a firm hold on the tail yanking helplessly on his waistband, gently removing it. "If you wanted me naked so bad, all you had to do was ask," he breathed against his lovers' mouth. Ulquiorra just huffed a weak growl at him before yanking his head down for more.

Grimmjow broke the kiss once more after a few seconds and yanked his bell-bottom pants (really, why this outfit?) off before quickly unbuttoning Ulquiorra's as well. Ulquiorra easily lay back and raised his hips to accommodate the already impatient Grimmjow as he pulled them off.

Grimmjow did not, however, crawl back on top of him as he had expected. Instead, warm hands traced up Ulquiorra's bare legs, ghosting small touches before going back over the same small expanse of skin with a rougher, caressing gesture.

Bliss and torture.

Grimmjow nipped gently at his thigh, to begin with.

"I will not break if you bite-!" Ulquiorra cut himself off with a heady gasp as Grimmjow sunk his always sharper-than-average teeth into the junction where his leg connected. No flimsy bite either. The skin nearly gave way under the harsh ministrations but Ulquiorra would have it no other way. The nips receded into more gentle tones until he came to his erection, already standing strong and in need of attention. Ulquiorra could tell where he was going with all of this but also knew his methods. "No time for torture," he said.

"Not even a bit?" Grimmjow said with a teasing edge in his voice, slowly running a finger up his length.

"No!" Ulquiorra snapped, channelling his frustration and totally not biting back a moan in the process.

Grimmjow's answering smile was less teasing and more soft. He took the head in his mouth obediently, very light at first before sucking a bit rougher. Ulquiorra arched his back and tried to buck his hips, but Grimmjow held them down. Ulquiorra appreciated the rough, calloused texture of his hands (hands of a warrior, of strength and survival) holding him firmly and pushing into him. But he wanted more. More feeling from them. He wanted the callouses themselves to leave imprints in his boring white skin.

"Harder," he panted out in a voice much more breathy and less demanding than he had intended. "Everything harder."

Grimmjow got the message. He engulfed Ulquiorra fully in his mouth, pushing harshly down into Ulquiorra's hips with his hands. Ulquiorra could not help a howl of pleasure that escaped his already ragged throat. The first loud sound, but not the last.

It went on, so torturously wonderful, until, when he was right on edge, Grimmjow let go of him completely, hands and mouth, coming off his cock with a 'pop.'

Ulquiorra's head snapped up, teeth bared at being denied. But Grimmjow's answering smug grin was enough to have him rolling his eyes and falling back complacently.

"You are always such a handful," Ulquiorra sighed, feeling Grimmjow come face to face with him before opening his eyes to see the handsome face of his roguish lover.

Grimmjow just gave a noncommittal humming sound, more from the depths of his throat than anything, before nipping and sucking gently at his neck, moving up to kiss him roughly. Ulquiorra returned it and enjoyed, basking in the phenomenal warmth Grimmjow carried with him naturally. When he pulled away, Ulquiorra found his lips poked at by three fingers.

"Suck, babe," Grimmjow said in a velvet, sinful voice. Ulquiorra's eyebrow quirked and Grimmjow thought he saw just a small bit of a devious smile work its' way onto his features. Ah how they rubbed off on one each other.

Quite literally, at that moment. Ulquiorra sucked harshly, tongue working around and between the fingers in a blatantly seductive way as his eyes never veered from Grimmjow's. Grimmjow, now as painfully hard as Ulquiorra, was quick to remove them and replace his fingers with, once again, his lips. And teeth really. The kiss was a gnashing, biting, sucking, mess but oh so satisfying in all the right (or wrong, by your definition) ways.

Grimmjow gently inserted one finger ever slowly, worrying that Ulquiorra's healing ability had tightened him up again with his time spent away. Ulquiorra, apparently sensing his hesitation, bit into Grimmjow's ear hard enough that he supposed it was bleeding a bit, and became more than just 'supposed' when he felt Ulquiorra begin to lap it up. "I am not made of glass. I do not know how many times I have to tell you," he hissed.

Grimmjow just chuckled. "You're so impatient now. It's nice," he admitted, adding the second finger as Ulquiorra wiggled on them, getting more comfortable. "Makes me feel more wanted."

"I doubt," he panted, words wavering and broken slightly at odd intervals to compensate for his mounting pleasure- pleasure from what Grimmjow wasn't sure as he had yet to find that little bundle of nerves unless Ulquiorra really did enjoy having his fingers, or an part of him, inside him that much. It would make sense. Hadn't he said basically that not so long ago? "I have ever made you feel unwanted. My apologies if I have."

"Nah," Grimmjow said, finally adding a third finger. "I just really like your reactions." And with that he angled his fingers differently and drove in roughly and, just as he expected, Ulquiorra damn near screamed in ecstasy, such was the pitch of his pleasured cry. Grimmjow nodded to himself in pride before pulling his fingers out.

Ulquiorra, having closed his eyes and arched his head back, met him with a flat stare. "You certainly have a flare for the dramatic," he said sardonically.

"Spices life up, don't ya think?" he said, aligning himself with the now prepared Ulquiorra, ready to push in.

"Even if I didn't, I wouldn't spoil your fun," he said, and smiled a legitimate teasing, nearly cheeky grin. Grimmjow froze in shock at the out of character expression before breaking out into a face breaking smile and kissing him roughly.

"Wasn't a denial," he noted.

"I would never deny you anything," he murmured, stroking the side of his face.

Grimmjow caught the hand and leaned into it, eyes turning heavy lidded. "I know," he whispered. "Neither would I."

Ulquiorra nodded. "So," he said, wrapping his arms back around his neck. "Do not deny me this any longer. I can barely stand to be apart from you and to be so close and yet not close enough… it is the most miserable kind of amazing."

"Really?" he said, burying his face in Ulquiorra's neck and sighing out deeply. A contented sigh, though. "Feels like home to me."

Ulquiorra tightened his grip. "Yes, home," he agreed. Grimmjow could stand it no longer and he slowly pushed in. Ulquiorra shuddered against him, but Grimmjow knew from the intense feelings he was receiving on Ulquiorra's end that it was all pleasure and amazement and a pervading sense of calm and right spreading throughout him; throughout them both.

Grimmjow started slow, wanting to draw it out. He needed this to be special. This was a reuniting and a coming together in so many ways. A need for one another. And the last time before life-altering circumstances invaded their lives, possibly forever changing them. But for now, it was them, there in this moment.

But nothing ever lasts forever.

Grimmjow's thrusts became manic and Ulquiorra's small noises had grown louder and more erratic in pitch. They were both ready.

They came together in a blaze of passion and love and the expression of both, each other's names howled through the other's lips like a prayer, blasphemous and desperate as it should have been.

Grimmjow's panting, sweaty body lay on top of Ulquiorra' cool but equally debauched one. With what little strength he had left in his arms, Grimmjow lifted himself onto his elbows above Ulquiorra and looked into his eyes with the desperation of a dying man.

"I love you, Ulquiorra," he said, and it meant as much and more as every other time it had come from his lips. "God damn it, I love you so much!" His head dropped to rest against Ulquiorra's shoulder. He felt a clawed hand come up and stroke his hair while the other moved to his back and pushed, letting Grimmjow's body to fall back onto his.

"I love you too, Grimmjow," he whispered in his ear, just as heartfelt. "Now and forever."

They stayed like that for an hour. A lifetime. An eternity. Each as equal to each other as to reality itself. They laid and they loved, physical and emotional. Everything to each other.

**XXX**

Urahara examined the mechanism before him. Though he had never seen it before, he knew what it was. He wasn't exactly sure how, but he knew. This was the machine that would carry his reiatsu to the edges of the estate. He was fully capable of providing the needed reiatsu. All he would need to do was send it out, send out the feeling of an army of released seers charging the mansion, and they would feel it. They would all feel it. They would believe they were under attack and the mansion would be cleared. And then they would fight. Ulquiorra had said that when under attack of great magnitudes, there was a protocol that all on-hand demons would go out to confront the invaders. A policy set up by Hallibel, just as a precaution.

It served his purposes though.

Urahara paused briefly, looking at the shut door. He had seen Stark's face. He had heard his words. The Espada would probably know. But Stark probably didn't care. He wanted this all to end as much as they did, apparently.

"So be it," he said, approaching the machine. "Grimmjow, I hope you're ready."

**XXX**

Ulquiorra's eyes flew open and he grabbed Grimmjow's shoulders. Looks passed lie words through their eyes between them and they rose, clothed themselves and stood feet from the door.

"This is it," Grimmjow said, grasping his blade tightly. He turned to Ulquiorra and grabbed his forearm, pulling him in for one last heated, bruising, desperate kiss before everything went to hell. "I'll see you on the other side."

**XXX**

**AN: **And I'm back! Hello all, I hope you aren't too mad at me for taking so long.

This chapter. I have been working on it for a long time and I hope it turned out okay. The machine thing is really just to get an even playing field going between our core characters there.

The final battle has arrived at long last! Who will live? Who will die? Only I know! And hopefully soon you will too. Err hopefully haha. Even if the chapters take a while to come out please know that I will finish this. It will be done!

So place your bets! You probably already know who will be fighting who, and you may even know who will come out. But none are safe in this fight and who knows, you might be surprised. I already know who lives through this and who does not and, reading through the story and especially this chapter, you can probably figure it out too. It's not exactly subtle. However I don't give it all away, and I may be misleading you. I actually am curious so go ahead and tell me who you think gets out and doesn't.

Oh and smut. Finally smut. Looong smut. Over 2,000 words of GrimmUlqui smut because I know you've all been wanting some.

I love you all so much for sticking with me. All this time, all the favorites and alerts and reviews, it just makes me happy. So thank you so very much. We're coming to the end, but it isn't over yet! If you feel like it, give a review or a favorite or an alert or just read it for the heck of it! I only aim to please.

I'll see you guys, hopefully, soon. Until then, happy new year all! May the updates of 2014 be quicker.


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